


Smoke and Gunpowder

by Mistflyer1102



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenges [3]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, M/M, Pre to Established Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 33,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were an unlikely pair, and while many doubted such a relationship would work, they never did care much about what other people thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Close

It never occurred to James Bond how small Q’s hands in comparison to his were until he was actually holding them.

The two were in the dank basement of a crumbling ruin at some archeological site on the other side of the world, the aftermath of a mission all around the two of them.  Q was unnervingly quiet for once, the pulse fluttering weakly in his wrist.  James said nothing, but checked the tourniquets on Q’s thigh and upper arm, using a torch to gauge the blood flow from the bullet wounds.  He knew there were a few more on Q’s torso, but couldn’t do much about those without proper medical supplies or he’d risk infection.  He had two fingers resting on Q’s wrist, watching with disguised curiosity as the quartermaster’s fingers flexed slowly, as though Q was still trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

Finally, after and indeterminable amount of time, James said quietly, “Q, curl your fingers around my hand if you can hear me.”

For a moment, Q didn’t respond.  Blood plastered his hair to his skull, and Bond could see bruises forming where the younger man had made contact with the wall earlier, when the hired thugs had been hauling him into the basement to ‘deal with him’, as the terrorist, one Monsieur Lefèvre, said before disappearing in the ensuing chaos.

Then, slowly, Q’s fingers curled around James’s bigger, scarred hand, and stayed there, even though James knew it was costing the quartermaster precious energy to remain still now.  Smooth skin brushed gently against the back of James’s hand, the most intimate physical contact James had had in years.  Since Vesper, now that he thought about it, after her, he’d been careful to keep his lovers from too much physical contact.  Too much contact might lead to more than James was willing to commit.

Then again, Q wasn’t a lover, so theoretically James had nothing to worry about.

Then Q coughed, the connection breaking as he released James’s hand in order to curl up on himself in an attempt to lessen the pain.  James gave him a few minutes of space before reaching out and gently catching his hand again to keep him from hurting himself further, as well as to keep an eye on the pulse.  A finger over the pulse-point should be enough.

Yet James found that he had wrapped one of his hands around Q’s entire wrist, the pointer and middle fingers both resting on the fluttering rhythm, silently distracting himself by counting the beats per minute.  Even without glancing at his watch, he knew it would be another ten to fifteen minutes before rescue came, and hopefully, if he were lucky, Q would have no recollection of this incident.  It was well known throughout that MI6 that 007 rarely showed anything more than ambivalence to anyone who wasn’t a friend, which in other words, anyone who wasn’t a 00 agent or Moneypenny. 

Q wasn’t an exception.  James knew what it was like to be in pain without comfort, and wouldn’t wish that on anyone else.

That was the only reason he was doing this.

Right?


	2. Nap

Q was absolutely sure that he’d been alone when he lay down on the cot in his office to rest.  It had gone something like this:

The mission to Australia where he nearly died had taken a toll on him, enough that even he knew that he had to rest.  Nightmares and fevered dreams kept him up at night, so his usual insomnia was worse than ever.

Placing his head in his hands, he didn’t look up when the office door open.  “If it can wait, then it can wait,” he said without looking up from where he was sitting at his desk, near the cot where he was about to lie down.

“You’re not sleeping at night, are you?”

He sighed at the familiar voice of 007.  “Not in the mood for your games today, double-oh seven.  Just… just go away, please,” he said, rubbing his temples before looking stubbornly at the computer screen.  He decided he’d go to sleep once 007 left, no need to boost the other’s ego by proving him right.

It said something about his current state of mind when he didn’t resist 007—Bond—wrapping a hand around a wrist and gently tugging him away from the desk.  Bond gently guided him to the in-office cot and set him down before he walked away and locked the door with a soft _click_.  Then the cot dipped as he sat down next to Q and tugged him down so that he was lying down.  Then Q fuzzily assumed that Bond had gotten up and walked away.

That was the last thing Q remembered. 

Now though, he could feel that he was snuggled up against a warm and comfortable form.  Shaking the fuzziness out of his head, he started to get up when he became rather aware of the arm wrapped tight around his waist.  Frowning, he settled back down and turned over to get a better look at his captor.

Bond was fast asleep—well, as asleep as a secret 00 agent would ever get anyway.  Q stared at him for a few moments, noting the relaxed stress lines and wondered if the agent was truly at peace for these few precious seconds.  Then, because he couldn’t really move (and Bond + cot = comfortable, not that he’d ever admit _that_ aloud), Q settled back down in the secret agent’s hold and carefully adjusted himself so that he was comfortable again.  Then, in the last bid for comfort, he leaned his head against Bond’s chest, silently praying to any higher powers that if Bond caught him like this, he wouldn’t bring it up again.

His only warning was the tightening of Bond’s arm before the agent pulled him closer, tucking Q’s head underneath his chin, all seemingly in his sleep.  It took Q a few moments to calm down again (Bond wasn’t about to choke him to death in his sleep, was he???), but once he did, he actually did relax completely against Bond’s body, where it was warm and more importantly, _safe_.

He did not dream at all during that nap.


	3. Movies

Perhaps the turning point in their relationship was the day Bond crashed into Q’s flat.

Literally.

Bond hadn’t meant to; in fact, he was running from three men who had captured him in their search for the MI6 Quartermaster, and Bond managed to convince them that the quartermaster was female and married.  Quite the opposite from the truth, and the best he could do at a moment’s notice.  Then, noticing an open, lit window on a nearby flat, he easily scaled the wall and slipped inside, hoping that the occupant wouldn’t mind playing along with Bond and pretending that Bond was a errant flatmate.

As soon as he got inside though, Bond met a ball of spitting fur and claws.

“ _Christ!_ ” he shouted, jumping reflexively back to the safety of the windowsill.

_Thunk!_

He looked up to find that he was in someone’s living room, a frozen image from _X-Men: First Class_ on the television screen with the _Pause_ symbol in the upper left hand corner.  He blinked when Q came in, holding a small handgun.  The quartermaster’s panicked expression disappeared when he saw Bond.  “Missy, come here girl,” he said, tucking the gun away and kneeling.  Bond watched in amazement as the angry furball moved obediently away from the window and jumped onto the quartermaster.  “All right, double-oh seven, it’s safe to come in now.  The big scary kitty won’t hurt you,” he said, slightly mockingly as Bond warily slipped into the flat.  “And how the hell did you climb _eight floors_?” he added, eyes widening when he realized where Bond was climbing down from.  “And didn’t you get captured earlier today?  We’ve been searching for you all day and Eve made me leave-”

“Too many window ledges.  And the men were looking for you, not me.  I told them you were female and already married, so as far as anyone is concerned, _we’re_ flatmates,” he said, closing the window behind him.  He paused when he spotted the still puffy animal, and then said, “What the hell is _that_?”

“ _That_ is a cat, and her name is Missy.  She was Mum’s before I took her.  I figured that since I never have visitors and any partners don’t stay long, it wouldn’t be an issue having Missy with me,” Q said, nodding toward the couch.  “Sit down. If we’re going to pretend to be flatmates in case your troublemakers show up, I can at least finish my movie.”

Bond did as told, settling down on the couch at a safe distance from Missy’s claws, and raised an eyebrow as Q started the film again.  “I have to admit, this wasn’t a favorite of mine because of the reboot,” he said, watching as Xavier shoved Havok off the satellite dish.

“You’ve seen this?  Impressive.  I figured you wouldn’t have the interest or time,” Q said, adjusting Missy so that she was on his opposite shoulder from Bond.  “I’ve already seen it before, but I’m re-watching it for the Marvel Movie Marathon on Tumblr.”

“The _what_?”

“Long story, but on Tumblr, a group of Marvel fans decided to have a movie marathon and watch every single film ever produced with Marvel characters if not Marvel studios.  Including the bad ones.  You lose if you either miss a film or refuse to watch it, and winner gets the Phase 1 DVD box set.  And since Eve threatened to shoot _me_ if she caught me trying to find you again, I suddenly had all this free time this evening.”

“‘Again’?  How many times have you ever searched for me in the six months we’ve been working together?” Bond asked, raising an eyebrow.

Q stiffened.  “I am concerned, _reasonably_ so, about the state of my equipment whenever you leave headquarters with it,” he said stiffly.

“Q?”

“What?”

Bond smirked.  “I didn’t have any of your equipment tonight.”

“Forgive me then, for being concerned for your welfare.  God forbid anyone ever do that,” Q replied, shoulders tensing.

“In that case-”

“Just shut up and watch the film or you can hold the cat,” Q snapped, the tips of his ears turning pink as he stared stubbornly ahead.

He only relaxed infinitesimally when Bond moved a little closer to him on the couch; Bond wasn’t good with words, but there was something… nice about knowing that there was someone watching out for him without an ulterior motive.


	4. Real?

Q knew almost immediately when he’d been compromised.

Luckily, it happened on the way back home from work so he managed to put off getting kidnapped/killed for a few more hours.  Bond had shown up out of nowhere to inform him of the current problem, link arms with him, and then casually inform him that the two of them were going to kill time while they waited for the threat to clear.

“I hope for _your_ sake that you weren’t the one who led them back to my front door.  I don’t even have an earpiece with me, so I can’t assist you,” Q grumbled as he allowed Bond to guide him to the nearest restaurant.  He tilted his head at the sight of the storefront, and then teased, “Not your usual five-star fare?”

“No time to find my usual five-star fare, we’re cutting it close as it is,” Bond replied lightly as he casually steered Q to the host’s podium.  “Table for two, please,” he said to the host, who nodded before gesturing for them to follow him.

Q frowned; he hadn’t realized it was that serious.  “And our cover story is…?” he prompted.

“We’re out on a date.  Gives us an excuse to lean close to each other and whisper, and maintain our privacy from others,” Bond replied as he steered Q into the indicated booth.

 _Oh_.  Pushing away the slight hurt—it was just a mission, he couldn’t forget that—Q leaned back in his chair and studied the menu.  Well, at least he was getting companionship for dinner out of this; eating takeaway in front of the telly with the cat night after night tended to become monotonous after a while.

Bond waited until after the waiter had left with their orders before glancing at Q.  “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.

Q rubbed his temple.  “Thinking of the best way to deal with this security breach once it’s over,” he lied, looking down at the tabletop in an attempt to _not_ look at Bond.  “The security protocols for the flat will have to be rewritten, I’ll have to take Missy back to the vet if she’s gotten out, and examine everything to make sure nothing was taken.  In other words, it’s going to be a long night again,” he said, resting his chin on propped hands.

Bond nodded, fidgeting slightly.  Q frowned, but didn’t call the double-oh out on it.  Then Bond sighed, and then said, “I suppose this would be the time then, to tell you.”

Quiet alarms flared in the back of his head.  “If you’ve destroyed something and _now_ you’re telling me about it…”

“No.”  Bond pulled out Q’s mobile from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table.  “There wasn’t a real threat… I just wanted an excuse to take you out for the night without the question of any… post-dinner obligations,” he said.  Nodding to the mobile, he said, “I picked your pocket so you couldn’t call R for confirmation of anything.”

Q blinked.  It hadn’t even occurred to him to call R about the supposed threat.  “So let me get this straight… you wanted a dinner with no strings attached, so you made up a security threat to accomplish that instead of just asking?” he said slowly to better grasp the concept without getting confused even more.

Bond raised an eyebrow.  “Would you have accepted otherwise?” he asked pointedly.

Q almost replied with ‘ _Yes, of course_ ’, but then, after thinking about it for a few moments, saw where Bond was coming from.  “Ah, good point,” he said, nodding in concession.

And if his heart still fluttered a little when Bond smiled at him, well, then that was his business and no one else’s.


	5. Sincere

It was kind of obvious almost right away.

After the date (could he still call it that, despite having lured Q out under false pretenses?), Q had been careful to keep a wall of professionalism between the two of them.  In any other circumstances, James would have persisted in pursuing the individual, but he sensed that a different approach was necessary here.

“I’m beginning to get the sense that I offended you,” he remarked casually, leaning against one of the worktables in the firing range as Q studied the line of fire through the scope of a prototype foldable sniper rifle.  Not really a smart move on his part, touching on a sensitive topic while the Quartermaster was wielding live weapons, but he was hoping that Q would feel as though he had the upper hand in the conversation, making him more comfortable with discussing it.

“Oh?  And what gave you that impression?” Q asked, not looking at him, instead raising the rifle at the paper target but not actually firing the weapon.

“Little things.  You address me by my call sign now, you actually put effort in subtly kicking me out of Q-Branch, and you don’t let me closer than within arm’s length anymore,” James said, watching Q’s body language for any hint of the quartermaster’s thoughts.

To his credit, Q didn’t flinch.  He didn’t even respond until _after_ he’d fired the sniper rifle, shoulders slouching a bit when the bullet went wide.  “Yet here I am in a firing range, with my back to you, with numerous weapons all around us,” he replied dryly as he walked back to the table and set the sniper rifle down to jot down some notes down on an open notepad.  His handwriting, James noted, was as clear and crisp as his voice when he was focused on something… or someone.

“You’re dodging my original point,” James said instead, watching Q’s expression now that he could see it better. 

Q sighed, reaching for the rifle to dismantle it and start putting the pieces back into the foam bed of the nearby metal case.  “Because, when I treat you as an agent of MI6, I know what to expect.  I know that you are trained to lie, to kill, to do what it takes to get the mission done,” he said, still avoiding James’s steady gaze as he continued packing the prototype up.  “As James…” he shrugged and said, “I don’t know what to expect.  I want a partner I can explicitly trust, who treats me as his equal, understands that I can’t always be on time, and will take this seriously and not bloody well _use_ me-”

“You don’t think I’ll take a relationship seriously,” James cut in, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, not all the ladies you encounter are always mission-related…” Q casually countered as he shut the case lid closed.

“Q.” James caught the quartermaster’s chin and gently forced the other to look at him.  “The last serious relationship I had ended with her betraying me.  The one before that, she died from natural causes before anything came of it.  Both were serious.  You know what I have to do for Queen and country, but this isn’t that.  I know precisely what you perceive me as,” he whispered before leaning in for a chaste kiss, a faint brush of warm lips that sent Q’s pulse thudding.  Leaning close to the quartermaster’s ear, he whispered, “But you’ll never know what I _can_ do unless you take the chance.  We both know I can waste my breath and time trying to convince you, but I won’t.”  Stepping back, taking note of Q’s flushed expression, he said, “You know where to find me.  Good evening.” Then he turned, and calmly left the firing range.


	6. Faith

_I must be mad_.

The thought kept cycling through Q’s head as he dithered on the walk across the street from the building where he knew James’s flat to be.  It was pouring outside, and he was soaked to the bone; he’d left MI6 when it was still cloudy but dry. 

James was right.  No matter how hard he tried, Q honestly couldn’t see him in any other romantic situation that wasn’t a casual fling or tool to achieve an objective.  Hell, Q couldn’t even picture _James Bond_ in a relationship with another _man_ , even though both R and Moneypenny had hinted it was in the records.  Q really did want to give James a chance, but at the same time, he was a little afraid to find out what would happen if it did turn out he was going to end up as another notch in the bedpost.  

But as James also pointed out, he’d never know unless he took the chance.  One that wasn’t likely to ever come again.

To go, or not to go, was the question here.

Q just stood there, caught in complete indecision as he ignored the rain dripping down his body.

Then he made up his mind.

Before he could back out, he darted across the street, swearing as he splashed into an unseen puddle in front of the curb.  Well aware that the lobby guard could just kick him out for being wet (after which he’d just bail and head home), he pushed open the main entrance doors and ungracefully stumbled in when his wet hair flopped into his eyes.

He nearly jumped when something warm enveloped his face and chest.  “I was getting cold just watching you,” James’s familiar voice said as he ran the towel through Q’s wet hair.  He paused long enough to allow Q to take his glasses off and then dried off Q’s face, neck and hair.  He gently tugged on Q’s shoulders and said, “We should go, you’re making a puddle on the floor and Edward, the doorman, gets twitchy about wet floors.”

“I thought he was going to kick me out,” Q admitted as James gently nudged him towards the lift.

“He might have, if I hadn’t been waiting.”  James waited until they were on the lift before he turned to face Q, and gently lifted Q’s chin again.  “I was worried that you wouldn’t come,” he finally admitted, watching Q carefully.

“So was I,” Q whispered before gently tugging James closer for a kiss that spread warmth throughout his body.  James held his head close, refusing to break contact as they fumbled their way out of the lift and a couple doors down to James’s flat.  Q found himself unable to let James go, even when the agent was fumbling with the key.  He finally did pull away, needing to catch his breath while James unlocked the door and stood back to let him in.

“First, get dry, I don’t want you to get sick.  I have a spare set of clothes you can use,” James said, closing the door behind Q as the latter walked in.

“Thank you,” Q said, carefully peeling off his dripping cardigan.  “I really am sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it, focus on getting dried off,” James said quietly, draping the towel around Q’s neck before looking down to find Q’s cold fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons.  “Here, allow me.”

Q half expected James to turn the act into something sexual, gentle foreplay with light touches down his chest that would eventually lead to the bedroom.  But James didn’t; instead, he focused on carefully unbuttoning the wet shirt, fingers hot against bared skin as he gently pushed the collar down and Q moved to let James slide the shirt off.  Then he took the towel to better dry himself off as James stepped away, the comfortable heat moving with him as he took the wet shirt somewhere.

“Here, wear this.  You might drown in it, but it will keep you warm,” James said, returning with what looked like his Royal Navy sweats.  “Bathroom is down the hall, you can leave your wet clothes and towel there.  I’ll get the kettle going.”

“Thank you, James,” Q said, smiling as he leaned up to accept a kiss.

 


	7. Steps

James awoke to the smell of someone cooking food.

His first instinct was to reach for his gun—he was used to waking up alone in his flat, especially at six in the morning.  Then memories from last night rushed in, and he relaxed, recalling Q’s slight embarrassment when he came out of the bathroom in James’s clothes, the takeaway dinner, and the simple invitation to stay the night.  Not to do anything, just to sleep. 

He silently watched Q from behind while leaning against the doorframe; the other had his attention split between the laptop on the counter and the food in the frying pan.  The sweats were too large on him, and the sweatshirt was slipping off, exposing pale skin on one shoulder. 

He really hadn’t expected Q to show up last night.  Or at all, for that matter: James was well aware of what he brought to the table in a relationship, and most of it was unfavorable for anyone’s health.  Even when he’d watched Q deliberating on the sidewalk outside, he’d been expecting the other to finally leave.

“See something you like?”

James tilted his head, concealing his surprise at Q spotting him finally.  “Perhaps.  I might need to keep you in that outfit whenever you’re here,” he said, straightening and walking over to where Q was standing with the spatula.  Kissing the other lightly, he silently wrapped his hands around Q’s waist as the other went back to cooking.  Resting his chin on Q’s shoulder, he whispered, “And what are you making?”

“A scramble, I was going to leave you some so that I could eat and get to work on time,” Q said, poking the food on the frying pan.  “Unfortunately, your pantry was worse off than I thought it was.”

“If you think mine is scary, you haven’t seen Alec’s yet.  We’re convinced he’s got an unofficial pet living in the top cupboard,” James said, reveling in the other’s warmth. 

“And he hasn’t removed it yet because?”

“No time.  Or motivation, for that matter.  It scared off someone who broke into his flat while he was in the shower, so he’s keeping it in case someone else comes to bother him,” James said, allowing a hand to slip underneath the sweatshirt to caress the warm skin.  “Are you ticklish?”

“You honestly think I’m going to answer that?” Q asked, his breath hitching slightly as James’s fingers skimmed over his ribs.  “James, that’s not fair…”

“Last I checked, life isn’t fair either,” James whispered back as he rested his hand on Q’s stomach and gently pushed the quartermaster back against him.  “What time do you have to be in?”

“In an hour and a half.  M’s banned you from all active missions until you comply with Medical’s monthly physical, so I suppose you can take it easy for today.  Or, I don’t know, make everyone’s life a little easier for a change and actually go to Medical,” Q said sarcastically as he began spooning the scramble into two plates. 

“But where’s the fun in making O’Reilly happy?” James asked, letting Q go and moving for the coffeemaker.

“You’d be surprised at how much control O’Reilly has in the other departments.  When he’s unhappy, he makes everyone else unhappy until he gets his way,” Q said.  “Now eat, get dressed and then go to Medical.”

James only laughed before pouring his coffee.  “Make it worth my while?” he teased.

Q raised an eyebrow, and then said, “No new missions means no new toys from me.  No new toys means that you have nothing cool to destroy.  Including the new car we’ve been outfitting for the last two weeks.”

James merely shook his head, still smiling.  He had to concede that one to Q.


	8. Meal

Q lost track of time around nine at night.

He had sent an apologetic text to James about having to miss dinner, but hadn’t received a response.  Then he dove back into work, hoping to distract himself from the old fear that James would get too impatient.

_No, just as you know what he does, he knows what you do._

“All right, three more tests and then we can move onto the next phase,” Q said, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he reached for the now-empty Scrabble mug.  Making a little noise of unhappiness, he pushed the mug aside and sat down in front of the nearest computer, wondering what he had done to anger M enough to send the order that all weapons testing had to be done after hours. 

He leaned back in his chair as the staff prepared the weapons for a second round of testing, carefully watching the monitors for any signs of deviance.  One mistake and someone else could pay the price. 

His stomach growled at the smell of food that had suddenly wafted in, the coffee soon catching up.  He turned in his seat, forming a lecture at the clumsy tech who had brought food and drink into a work zone, but it died in his throat as James came in with a covered plate and thermos.  “James?  I thought you left already?” he said, trying not to sound hopeful that James would be willing to share the treats he’d brought with him.

“I was on my way when I thought you’d want a snack for later,” the other said, setting the plate and thermos down near Q’s elbow.  Pulling up another chair, he glanced at the screen, which was filled with zeros and ones, and then asked, “What are you working on?”

“Double-oh one was able to recover some of his enemy’s weapons on his last mission, and we’re working on adapting them for our purposes,” Q said, glancing out the window at the testing area.  “The enemy has used similar technology to mine in that there is a specific code and fingerprint necessary to activate them.  Each ID code is unique because of the fingerprint aspect, so we had to crack them open and dissect them before reconstructing them again.  We’re testing right now whether the reprogramming worked or not.” He sighed, and then said, “The tests aren’t going as well as I’d hoped they would.”

“Give them a couple more rounds before going home for the night, I can wait and give you a ride,” James offered, leaning back in his chair.  “I don’t have anywhere else I could be right now.”

Q snorted.  “James, it’s a Friday night.  Options are limitless.”

“In the States, I might be tempted.  But here at home, well, there’s no point going anywhere by myself when my partner’s stuck at work and my friend’s out looking for someone to spend the night with,” James said calmly, propping his feet up on the table next to Q’s desk.  “So here I am.”

Q shook his head, smiling as he reached for the thermos and sniffing it carefully after unscrewing the lid.  “This isn’t R’s latest concoction, is it?” he asked, glancing warily at James, who frowned.

“No, why?”

“Because as innovative as R’s idea was, I can barely tolerate coffee as it is,” Q said, taking a sip of the drink.  “Coffee and hot chocolate were never meant to be together.  Ever.”

“I’m sure someone once said that about us,” James said, leaning forward and pulling Q gently in for a kiss.  “Now focus, love, and don’t mind me back here.”

Q kept James trapped for a few more minutes by wrapping his hands around James’s neck, exchanging slow and lazy kisses before returning back to the monitors, definitely more alert than he had been a few minutes ago.


	9. Faces

It happened on Saturday night, as things turned out.

“What you need to do is shut up _now_ before I tell Eve what happened to you the last time we were in Afghanistan,” James said, grinning broadly as Q raised an eyebrow and Eve looked hopeful while Alec flipped James off from across the marked table.  The four were at a pub enjoying the fact that their schedules aligned in a way that allowed them to have a weekend night off all at the same time.  Q turned out _not_ to be the recluse James took him for and was doing a pretty good job so far holding his liquor, especially since he really was something of a lightweight. 

“Shut up James, that wasn’t half as bad as the time you-”

“Hey, I want to hear what Alec did,” Eve cut in, somehow managing to speak over Alec in the noisy pub.  Turning to Alec, she asked, “Did James shoot you or something?”

“It would have certainly gotten him out of trouble faster, that’s for sure,” James said, grinning nastily as he wrapped an arm around Q’s shoulders.

“He got married to one of the local chieftain’s daughters by accident and had to convince the chieftain for the rest of the mission that he was the worst possible candidate for his favorite daughter,” Q cut in, smirking as he took another swallow.  “The antics that followed were something straight out of a _Home Alone_ film.”

“Granted, I wasn’t in Chicago or New York, but the bottom line is that I ended up injuring myself more than necessary.  James was too busy laughing to help,” Alec said, rolling his eyes as Eve laughed.  “And aren’t those files classified?”

“I could find out what dentist you used twenty years ago if I put my mind to it, Navy and MI6 records are _that_ thorough,” Q countered.  “Never mind security, those were easy to-”

“Alex?”

Q promptly choked on his drink in shock, sending up little red flags in James’s mind.  He leaned forward and pulled Q closer, leaning down as though to check on him but instead said, “Are you all right?”

“Yes, but-”

“Are you compromised?” James asked quietly, snapping back into mission-mode.

“I shouldn’t be,” Q said, turning around to find the speaker.  He blinked and said, “Bloody hell, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

James turned to look, and raised an eyebrow at the brunette woman who was watching them intently, her evening coat halfway on.  Her face brightened as soon as she saw Q, and then she said, “Alex!  I wasn’t even sure it _was_ you!”

“Alana, it has been too long,” Q said, smiling as he got up.  James let him go, but didn’t dare look away or move his hand away from the Walther hidden underneath the coat.  He watched as the two embraced and Alana fussed over Q’s hair for a moment, messing up James’s work from that morning.  The two began talking quickly but quietly, Alana grinning broadly as she spoke while gesturing, and Q laughing at something she was saying.  James swallowed down the slight jealousy when Alana leaned forward and kissed Q on the cheek, reminding himself to be the mature one and that he really had no right to dwell on any of Q’s past relationships.  Even if they did show up again.

“They look rather comfortable,” Alec observed quietly as Alana waved back at the counter to get someone else’s attention.

“Shut up,” James muttered back, knowing it would not do to get jealous of someone he’d never met before.  He raised an eyebrow when the two of them started coming back to the table, a third person getting up from the counter to amble over as well.  “Behave, hm?”

“Only if you do,” Alec muttered back before placing an arm around Eve’s shoulders, eyeing the unknown man warily as the three approached the table.  Eve rolled her eyes before attempting to shrug off Alec’s arm, but the double-oh was a little more stubborn than she was.

“James, this is Alana Stafford and Evan Traviss, we were friends in university,” Q said, sitting down as he gestured to the two.  Alana pulled up two empty chairs between Q and Eve, and then sat down next to Q, setting down her and Evan’s half-finished drinks.  “Alana is from New York while Evan is from Cardiff.”

“Nice to meet you,” James said, shaking hands with both as Alec offered a thin smile.  “I’m James, this is my friend, Alec, and his girlfriend, Eve.”

“Evan and I aren’t together, but he likes to think we are,” Alana replied cheerfully as she smirked in Q’s direction before she turned to James.  “Alex mentioned you’re all coworkers?”

“In different departments, but yes,” James said carefully.  Q was watching the exchange, but in a way that suggested he was preparing to pounce at the first sign of a disagreement.  “I can only imagine what else he’s told you,” he said, sipping his drink.

“Not a lot, we haven’t spoken in _months_ , not since he went underground to show off his computer skills,” Alana said, winking as Q grimaced.  “Has he told you about that yet?  He’s so good with computers that there was this one party where-”

“ _That_ was more of mashing computer keys until something happened,” Q interrupted, turning slightly pink.  “We’d also agreed that was on the list of ‘Things That Never Happened’,” he said, glowering at Alana for several seconds before his expression broke into a grin.

“So are you and James, you know, together?” Evan asked, glancing at Q, who nodded.  Evan sighed, and then said, “Odd man out again.  First Alana, then you…”

“Not now, Evan, I only have an hour before I have to be at Heathrow for the flight home, and I do _not_ want to be talking about dating,” Alana cut in, rolling her eyes. 

As though sensing James’s growing discomfort, Q suddenly said, “Alana, if you could spare fifteen minutes, I can finish up here and we can catch up after.”

Alana nodded, and said, “Good idea, I-”

“Do you have at least _one_ embarrassing story about Alex that we should hear?” Alec suddenly asked, cutting her off as he leaned forward in interest.  “I’ve been trying to get dirt on him for months now, but he’s got the advantage where we work.”

Alana grinned, and Q suddenly looked worried. 

“Oh, Alec.  The things I can tell you,” she said, grinning as Q groaned and leaned on James as though for support.

“Want me to stop her?” James asked, leaning down to keep his voice near Q’s ear.

Q sighed, and James rubbed his back briefly.  “If this isn’t the story I think it is, then I’ll let Alec have this one.  If it is, then you have my full permission to stop the leaking of classified information by any means you deem necessary,” he said to James, who nodded before turning back to listen in.


	10. Stay

Even though the agent hid it well, Q knew full well that James was suffering from jealousy by the end of the night.

“It really was good to see you again,” Alana said as he helped her get her coat on.  James had gone to get the car with Eve, who, being the most sober of the four of them, had offered to drive around and pick Q up from the front door so that he could have a little more time with his university friends before Alana left for the States again.  “I was so worried about you, when you and Evan made that _stupid_ bet and then you disappeared…”

“I’m fine, Alana, I was never in any real danger,” Q replied soothingly as he stepped back, gesturing for Alana to leave the restaurant first. “Besides, I’ve got James now, he can protect me if it comes down to that.”

“But what if you need him and he’s not there?” Alana asked, raising an eyebrow as she turned to face him, breath coming out in white clouds.

Q swallowed, finding that he was _not_ thinking of that possibility; that would only mean that something horrible had happened to James, and he couldn’t do anything to help.  “I can take care of myself, Alana,” he said instead of answering the question.  He looked up in time to see the familiar Aston Martin pulling up; Eve behind the wheel with Alec next to her.  Squeezing her hand gently, he said, “Good night, and have a safe flight.”

“See if you can convince your boyfriend and boss to let you come State-side, I miss you,” Alana said, smiling mischievously before leaning in and kissing him on the forehead as she’d always done.  She grinned, and then asked, “Is he the possessive type, then?” she asked.

Q shrugged.  “Please don’t antagonize him unnecessarily,” he said, grinning before squeezing her shoulder lightly.  “Take care.”

“ _Call_ , you bastard.  And save me some worrying,” Alana said as he turned to leave.

He just waved at her without turning around, heading for the nearest door and sliding into the car, where he found James stretched out on the backseat and dozing.  Shutting the door and buckling in, Q waved once to Alana through the window as the car pulled away from the curb.  Then he turned to the sulking agent beside him, smiling softly before gently running fingers lightly across James’ skin.  Leaning over, he whispered, “Thank you,” before reaching down and wrapping his fingers around James’ own. 

A brief look of confusion crossed James’ face but he covered it up well and trapped Q’s fingers in his own, raising them to kiss them lightly.  “You’ll have to say for what, I don’t understand,” he said in a low voice, leaning over so that their foreheads were touching each other.

Q grinned slightly.  “I meant, ‘thank you for being nice tonight’.  Alana and I were only ever friends, she has her own partner back in the States,” he said, bumping noses with James.  “Evan, meanwhile, prefers to remain single after his last breakup, weeks before the summer holidays, went spectacularly south and ended with his ex-girlfriend trying to use fireworks as rocket launchers.  It was nasty, absolutely terrifying, and the first running-for-my-life I ever participated in.  She wanted me, and then later Alana, to tell her where Evan was hiding, and since neither of us said anything, she hunted us down for _days_.”  He grinned slightly at the memory, looking down at where James was still holding his fingers.  “In other words, dodging MI6 was easier than dodging _her_.”

“Dodging hunters is always a good skill to have,” James said, tightening his own fingers for a moment.  He was quiet, and then he said, “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about your past in one sitting.”

“Well, my past doesn’t normally catch up to me like that,” Q replied, gently letting go before straightening, noting that they were pulling up to his building. 

James noticed as well, following his line of sight.  “Tomorrow then?” he asked, glancing at Q, who had been reaching for the door handle.

Q made the split-second decision.  “Come inside?” he offered, trying not to look as hopeful as he felt—he didn’t want to come across as _too_ clingy.

To his surprise, James agreed.  “Alec, I expect the car back at my flat _in the same condition_ I left it in,” he said as he reached for the door handle.

“All right, will do,” Alec said, not bothering to hide a grin as Q clambered out to keep up with James.  “Do you want me to just leave the car here for when you leave?” he asked, sticking his head out of the window and grinning unashamedly.

James feigned a swat at him, wrapping a hand around Q’s waist and pulling him close.  “I’ll call a cab, it’s not an issue.  Just _don’t_ scratch it,” he said before turning around to guide Q up the steps.

Q leaned against him as the two of them entered the lobby, feeling pleasantly warm and safe.  He didn’t miss the way James’ hand slid so that it cupped his hipbone through the coat and shirt, and just to tease the other man, he leaned back and closer to James so that the hand slipped around his front, leaving a trail of warmth as James wordlessly pulled him closer to better rest his hand on the front of Q’s lower body, dangerously close to where the warmth was slowly pooling. 

To his credit, James didn’t bat an eye until Q had shut the flat door behind him.  Then Q groaned when he felt James reach for him in the dark and press him against the door, large and warm hands slipping underneath his shirt as a hot mouth covered his, swallowing the noise.  He tilted his head slightly to get a better angle, eyelids fluttering close at the warm slide of tongues as his fingers danced across the hem of James’ jacket, searching for the other’s belt in the dark.  There was a dull _thunk_ as the back of Q’s head made contact with the door, and he let out an involuntary whimper when he felt James gently palm his hardening cock.  “James…” he managed to get out between James’ gentle shushing sounds as he felt James’ hands pause where they were resting on his belt.

He felt James rest his head on a shoulder, and then nearly moaned as he felt James laying gentle kisses up the side of his neck before he gently bit Q’s earlobe.  “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Q paused, suddenly grateful that it was dark so James couldn’t immediately read his hesitation.  He knew how this worked, he knew that sooner or later that no matter what James had said before they… started this, there would come a time when James inevitably moved on.  Q would be a liar if he said he didn’t put off sex because he knew that the metaphorical hunt would be over after that.  At the same time, he wanted this intimacy with James, the first partner he’d had in years—last one had been in his second year of university.  He knew he couldn’t pin down a free spirit such as James’—didn’t want to either—but at the same time he wanted to hold on as tightly as possible.

Swallowing thickly, he decided not to think about the following morning as he plunged ahead.  He carefully felt for James’ face and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t you _dare_ stop,” before guiding James’ lips to his and wrapping his arms around James’ neck.  He grunted when he felt James pick him up, curling his legs around James’ waist before the other began to carry him to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part is not safe for work (nsfw).


	11. Merge

James sensed that something was wrong with Q, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

He’d stopped to ask one last time if Q was sure that he wanted this while holding the younger man above the bed.  Q had let out an indecipherable growl, and threatened to have his next Walther backfire if he so much as _thought_ about asking the same question again.  James had replied with letting him fall back onto the bed and shrugging out of his own clothes, sharp blue eyes never leaving the man before him and imagining how Q would look once James was finished with him.

Still, he remained on guard even as he pressed Q into the bed, straddling the other to better get at his cardigan and shirt buttons.  He gave into Q’s insistent tugs and leaned down for another kiss, plunging his tongue into the warmth of the other’s mouth as he growled impatiently and finally just ripped at the cardigan, ignoring Q’s squeaks of indignation.  “Problem?” he whispered as he began undoing the shirt buttons.

Q huffed.  “I should have known that you would bring your penchant for destruction into the bedroom,” he whispered before turning his head to capture James’ mouth again.  He tried to twist to better clasp his arms around James’ neck, but groaned instead when James ground his hips against him.  James used that opportunity to get the shirt off, managing to not tear it this time.

“Your clothes won’t be the only wrecked thing in the bedroom once I’m finished with you,” James whispered before giving into an old temptation and threading his fingers through Q’s hair and twisting the strands so he could pull back and expose the long neck he’d fantasized about for some time now; trailing a gentle line of kisses down Q’s throat, he finished with a slightly sharper bite to the hollow of Q’s collarbone.  Bracing his hands so that he kept Q pinned, he shifted so he could reach the other’s chest, momentarily torn between taking his time to take Q apart and just claiming the quartermaster for himself.  Leaning down, he carefully took a nipple in his mouth, gently swirling his tongue as he reached down to undo Q’s flies, delighting in the deep moans coming from his lover’s mouth.  Q was breathing fast when James gently licked a path to the other nipple, absently shushing the soft whimpers that came from the younger man.

James felt himself tense as he felt another flash of pure _want_ , something he’d tried hard to suppress earlier that night.  He wanted Q to forget everything, everyone, but him.  At the same time, he had no idea of Q’s past sexual history, and did not want to accidentally trigger something.  It said something about his self-control that he was able to trail his tongue down Q’s shuddering torso without ripping his trousers and pants the rest of the way and taking him right there and then.  Rather, he slid the trousers off, taking the pants with them so he could straighten up and take in the sight of Q sprawled out on the sheets.

The other man was panting, a light sheen of sweat on his pale skin as his chest heaved, cock hard and glistening at the tip.  James looked up and made eye contact with Q for a split second before the Q looked away, ducking his head down as he seemed to almost shrink on himself.  Leaning forward, James cupped Q’s face and turned his head so that he could steal a kiss.  “Why turn away?” he asked quietly.

Q didn’t respond and instead reached blindly for James; he’d taken his glasses off at some point.  He pulled James back for the kiss while pressing his hips against James’ making his interest clear.  Then, before James could press further, he felt a hand boldly wrap around his cock, sending a jolt of pleasure and snapping whatever little self-control he’d managed to hold onto at that point.

Ducking down to brush his lips against Q’s ear, he whispered, “Condoms? Lube?”

Q managed to prop himself up on an elbow as best he could to look around for a moment, checking both sides of the bed before he nodded to the table closest to James. “In there… I think.  It’s, um,” he cleared his throat, and then admitted, “It’s been a while, for me.  No time nowadays.”  

Wordlessly, James bit down on the hollow of Q’s throat and worried the skin gently between his teeth as he reached blindly for the bedside table drawer, growling as he felt Q squeezing his length.  He nudged Q back to lie on the bed again before he moved and caught Q’s earlobe between his teeth, moving his hips slightly for some friction.  “See what you do to me, Quartermaster?” he said in a rough voice, dragging out Q’s title before moving to the skin underneath Q’s ear as his hand finally managed to get the drawer open.  “Do you know how much I wanted you that first night you came to my flat, dressed in my sweats like that?”

Q let out a breathy laugh.  “I think I can guess,” he managed to say as he wrapped a leg around James’ hip, and James felt a thrill run down his spine as Q dragged his fingernails across his back as he pressed his cock against James’ thigh, seeking relief even as he let James go in order to scrabble for a grip on James’ back.

James merely bit down harder as he opened the small packet that he’d found in the drawer, nearly dropping the condom when Q moved to use him as leverage and hoist himself up to bite him on the shoulder.  Growling deeper in his throat, he wrapped a hand around Q’s back to better grind his hips against the other man, eyes fluttering with the sparks of pleasure at the contact.  Q’s breath hitched slightly, but he kept laying kisses along James’ neck.  James gave gentle thrusts against Q before letting the other go in order to roll the condom onto himself, all while still kissing and sucking whatever of Q’s pale skin he could reach.  Another quick foray into the drawer revealed a small, half-full bottle of lube that James popped the cap as he leaned back, gently depositing a flushed Q on the messy bedsheets.  Despite the fact that it was dark, Q somehow managed to make eye contact with him as he poured a generous amount onto his hand, coating his fingers.

“Stop me if this hurts, or if you don’t want this,” he whispered, leaning down briefly by Q’s ear so he could be sure that the other man heard him.

Q gave a jerky nod and whispered, “Just don’t _fucking_ stop” before James straightened back up, carefully watching Q’s face as he leaned forward to gently prepare Q, pausing every few moments to stroke the younger man’s cock to distract Q from any discomfort.  He never once looked away from Q’s face, searching for any signs of dislike, discomfort, any sign that he should stop.

His own cock was aching by the time he was finished preparing Q, he was hard just from watching Q writhe on the bed from the sensations, a sheen of sweat visible from the street lights filtering through the bedroom windows between the curtains.  He gently placed Q’s legs over his shoulders, gently running a hand down Q’s leg and over his hip to ease any strain. After using the remnant lube on his fingers to slick himself up, he leaned over Q and then whispered, “Are you ready?”

Q remained still for a few seconds, catching his breath, before nodding mutely.  James was silently grateful that he still had the presence of mind to proceed slowly, pressing in ever so slightly, before withdrawing again, gradually entering his lover’s body.  He was still caught off guard when Q suddenly snapped his hips up and he groaned as he gave in and pressed in all the way, reaching forward to swallow the rest of Q’s moans, pressing Q into the mattress with his weight.  Then he pulled out, and gently thrust in again, moving up slightly to allow Q the freedom to move with him.  His hands were clutching James’ back, nails digging into the skin as his eyelids fluttered closed, leaning forward to kiss James wherever he could reach. Soft whimpers escaped each time James hit his prostate, and James gently shushed each cry, nuzzling Q as he brushed back the other’s sweaty black hair from his face.

James’ only warning that Q was about to come was when he felt Q’s fingers tighten their grip on his back and Q tensed in his arms.  Moving to Q’s ear, James whispered, “Come Q, come for me _now_.”

Q let out a stuttering, broken cry as James thrust deeply one last time, and James felt warm cum splash against his stomach.  The intimacy, the utter _trust_ , and the sudden burst of affection in James’ chest was enough to tip him over the edge.  He buried his face into the crook of Q’s neck and the pillow, lifting the panting quartermaster so that he could wrap the other man in a hug against his chest, suddenly unwilling to let him go as his hips jerked against Q, drawing out the last of his orgasm.

The two of them lay there, breathing heavily, not moving for a few moments.  Then James gently set Q back down on the bed and pulled out slowly, lowering Q’s legs and running a soothing hand down Q’s side as the other man twitched from oversensitivity.  He carefully took off the condom, tied it, and binned it on his way to the loo to gather a few warm and damp washcloths.  Already adjusted to seeing in the dark, James did not bother to turn any lights on.

When he came back to the bedroom, Q was still on top of the twisted sheets, lying on his side as his eyes watched James’ movements.  He looked strangely vulnerable in that moment, as though he’d handed his heart to James and expected the other to reject it.  James swallowed nervously before sitting down on the bed, gently nudging him to lie back flat on the sheets again.  He smiled softly when he heard Q hum in contentment as James gently wiped his stomach and groin down with one of the cloths before James used the other cloth on himself.  Kicking off the soiled duvet as James moved to join him on the bed, Q scooted over to give James some space, pulling the sheets back to give James a place to lie down.  Then, once he was comfortable, James turned his head to glance at Q, who was still staring at the ceiling.  “All right?” he asked after a moment.

Q nodded, turning to face him. “Never better,” he whispered before leaning over and kissing James chastely on the lips.  He hesitated, but James caught on anyway and wrapped an arm around his waist, bringing Q closer to him and moving to lie on his side.  Tucking Q’s head underneath his chin, James managed to locate the edges of the sheets and pulled them up to cover the two of them.

Then he wrapped his arm around Q’s waist and murmured, “You should get some sleep now,” before burying his nose into the dark curls and falling still.

He didn’t know how long they slept like that until James’ phone buzzed on the nearby table, waking only the 00 agent.  Careful not to disturb Q, who was deeply asleep and comfortably tucked against his body, James gingerly reached back and picked up the vibrating mobile, taking note of the familiar number before hitting the ‘Talk’ button; he didn’t want to wake Q up.  “Agent double-oh seven, what is it?” he asked, careful to keep his voice down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to FlutterFyre for her beta assistance!


	12. Protocol

_What will happen now?_

The thought occurred to him maybe halfway through the usual rounds of tests that he ran in the afternoon when there wasn’t a mission underway.  Q was balancing the work-in-progress that was the new sniper rifle for 001, and he felt a dulled spasm of pain in his lower back; a testament to not only his lack of sexual activity in the last few months before last night, but also to the level of James’ own power.  Q knew that the pain had not been intentional—he’d found a bottle of paracetamol and a glass of water on the bedside table when he woke up that morning—but it served as a constant reminder that he could very well never see the 00 agent again. 

In a personal manner, that is, he knew that no matter _what_ happened, professionalism was key in the workplace, and that meant facing James even if the other had moved on.  Since Q had arrived late to work, M had not permitted him to even listen on the current mission—007 had been charged with rescuing 009, who had gotten in way over her head on accident—so Q had no idea if there was a femme fatale (other than 009, who already lived happily with her own spouse) involved, or someone that would draw James’ attention away.

_Damn it James, I didn’t want fall this hard for you, but I fucking did anyway._

Q still remembered what James had told him before agreeing to date him.  That he _could_ commit to a long-term relationship.  Q wasn’t an idiot, he knew precisely what James had to do for Queen and Country, but there was always the niggling fear that James would encounter the one woman that would capture and hold his attention. 

Perhaps that was the reason why last night, Q decided to take his fate into his hands and make the most of the time he _did_ have with James.  He’d treasure every minute he did get in the end, and then quietly bow out when he sensed that James was ready to move on; Q had enough work to do without the added relationship drama, and there was no way he’d get involved in something petty as fighting over an individual with another person.  He was a professional, he’d handled living alone before meeting James, and could most certainly do it again if need be.

“Did Lee personally offend you in the eighteen hours I was gone?”

Q jumped and nearly dropped the sniper rifle at the sound of James’ voice.  Straightening up and smoothing over his expression, he turned and said in what he hoped was a steady voice, “Whatever gave you that idea?” 

James shrugged and entered the firing range, looking casual and calm.  Q could still see lines of tension underneath the still-spotless suit though, and set the sniper rifle aside as the 00 agent calmly approached him.  “You looked like you were debating the merits of shredding the paper target versus Lee,” James added sliding a non-discreet hand around Q’s waist before moving to stand behind the quartermaster, hand falling at his side again.  “It also looked as though you were about to crumple underneath the weight.” He paused by the small table that had the weapons, and said, “May I?”

“When did you get back?” Q asked, glancing at his watch and blinked when he found that it was almost dinnertime.  While he had only been at MI6 for six hours, it still felt like almost a usual workday to him.  “Bloody hell…”

“Got back thirty minutes ago, just hopped over the Channel to Calais.  Surprising, given that Tess was _supposed_ to be in Spain at the time,” James replied easily as he picked up the rifle.  He lifted it as though to shoot it, and then said, “You might want Lee to help you at this point, it feels like a calibration issue and he might be best suited to fix it since he’ll be the one using it.”

Q nodded, trying not to feel miffed that James figured the problem out before he did.  “I knew that,” he said, before turning his attention to the next weapon, moving to the table but careful to give James some space; he was standing behind the 00 agent, and knew that they easily startled when coming down from the adrenaline rush of a mission.

James hummed to himself before he said, “If you’d actually been paying attention to what you were doing… yes, you would know that.”  Before Q could lift the next weapon, James’ hand shot out and pinned Q’s wrist to the table, the quartermaster freezing on the spot as seminar after seminar of handling high-strung 00 agents ran through Q’s mind in that second.  Lowering the sniper rifle and setting it back on the table, James moved so that the two were almost touching noses.  “You weren’t on my comms,” he said, studying Q carefully.

Q raised an eyebrow.  “Someone shut off my alarm clock.  And hid my mobile.  And told M that I was recovering from a hangover,” he said, finding himself unable to make eye contact; he did not want to provoke James any more than necessary.  “Besides, you didn’t leave a note saying that you’d gone on a mission.”  _And I selfishly assumed that you had just left for good._

James made a non-committal noise.  “I’d planned on coming back before you woke up, and didn’t think a note was necessary.  But that obviously didn’t work, as we are both standing here discussing this,” he said, tilting his head as though to try and catch Q’s gaze.

“I would _never_ begrudge you for leaving because of a mission.  Or anything that would happen on a mission,” Q said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.  “It’s just that without a note, with no way of getting in touch with HQ, there was nothing to tell me that you’d left on a mission.”

He mentally cringed when he heard the smug tone in James’ voice as he said, “And you didn’t think I’d be coming back?  Q, a little faith would be appreciated next time.” Lifting Q’s chin for a quick kiss, he said, “And here I never took you as the jealous type.”

Q stiffened.  “I am _not_ jealous,” he snapped, perhaps a little too quickly than was safe.

James merely chuckled before ducking down and nosing aside the thin scarf Q had wrapped around his neck to cover up the marks from the night before.  “It’s all right, because I get jealous easily, and you constantly underestimate how desirable you are,” he whispered, breath warm against Q’s skin before tracing the faded marks with his tongue.  Q swallowed when the other nibbled on the skin underneath his jaw, and then added, “Problem here is that I’ll have to keep my hands off here at work, and that is when you’re at your most vulnerable.”  Something flickered in his eyes at the word ‘vulnerable’, and Q wondered if he was thinking of his past partners, recalling how each died not too long after meeting him.

Q took a steadying breath before reaching up to touch James’ face lightly, hoping that he was interpreting the worry correctly.  “I’m hardly vulnerable as it is, there just hasn’t been a need to demonstrate it.  Hopefully there won’t ever be a need to, as I do most of my work behind a screen here at work or at home,” he said, smiling softly as he managed to get a slight twitch of a smile from the 00 agent. “But if that’s how you want to do it, then we will keep discretion at work.” He snorted softly, and then added; “Bloody good start if you ask me, jumping me while I’m testing…”

“We’re both spies, when it comes down to it.  I’ll be surprised if we can’t pull it off.  Besides, since you haven’t bothered to notice, not only are we in a blind spot in this room, but you can also erase the incriminating footage later,” James said, easily straightening as though nothing had happened.  “At the moment though, I have to collect the car from Alec, as I suspect the bastard didn’t put it back like I asked.” Turning Q’s wrist over in his hand, he rubbed the skin lightly before moving away.  He nodded once, and then said, “Quartermaster” before turning to leave.

“Double-oh seven, thank you for your assistance,” Q said, gesturing toward the sniper rifle.

James merely smirked and said, “Always glad to be of assistance.”  Then he turned and calmly walked out of the firing range as though nothing had happened.

Q waited until he was gone, with the door closed behind him, before leaning against the table, allowing himself a grin for the first time that day.

They were going to be okay.


	13. Family

It was too cold to do anything outside of the covers.

James turned over, feeling pleasantly warm despite the cold temperature outside.  Propping himself up on his side, he looked fondly down at Q, who had wrapped himself up in the extra throw blanket at some point in the night while remaining under the duvet with James.  The other man was facing James, looking younger than James would have ever guessed as the stress lines melted away in sleep.  James reached out, gently brushing some of Q’s fringe away from his face.  He smiled softly when Q scrunched his face up in his sleep before rolling away from James, taking the covers with him a little.  He settled down after a few moments, a bit of bare shoulder slipping past the edge of blanket and duvet.

James sighed, breathing through his nose to calm down the twinge of piqued interest.  Reminding himself that Q had gotten in late the night before after a string of successive crises, he propped himself up on an elbow to better reach the boffin and gently reach around his waist and tug him backwards enough to give the other man a hint.

Q let out a soft mewl, but did not move except to reach back and pat the blankets as though to reach for something.  James chuckled softly but allowed Q to clasp his hand, squeezing it gently before letting go and lifting the covers to reach over and gently tug Q closer.  The quartermaster let out a grunt of complaint but scooted backwards regardless, shivering slightly as James wrapped his hand around Q’s waist.  Pressing Q up against him so that Q’s back was up against his chest, James leaned forward to bury his nose into the other’s thick black hair, nuzzling it softly as he tried to get over the slight irritation that Q was wrapped up in a bloody _blanket._

He’d begun nibbling on the back of Q’s neck, unable to resist the pale skin in front of him, when Q squirmed and then melted against James’ back.  “James, what are you doing?” he asked sleepily, bowing his head so James could access his neck better.

James didn’t answer, just continued to gently drag teeth across the pale skin as his nose brushed against the clean skin.  Leaning forward, he gently nosed the pulse points underneath Q’s jaw, feeling the satisfaction coiling in his stomach at the faint mewl.  Brushing his lips against Q’s ear, he whispered in a rough voice, “Face me, Alex.”

Q let out a soft whimper at the use of his real name, and obediently leaned back so that James could see his stunning eyes, not obscured for once with glasses.  James smirked, feeling the other’s pulse speed up slightly as his fingers danced across warm skin underneath Q’s jaw before they reached the junction of his neck and jaw.  “How much do you trust me?” James asked softly, his fingers skimming lightly down Q’s throat.

“With my life,” Q said without hesitation, calmly watching James.

For a moment, even though he’d asked the question, James still found himself caught off guard at the amount of _trust_ that Q had in him.  Both men knew that James could kill him in a moment and never leave a trace, yet Q _knew_ that James could caress all of his weak points and never hurt him.  Gently cupping Q’s face, James kissed the other man before leaning down and gently kissing the pulse point, lips brushing against the warm skin and curving into a smile as he felt the gentle vibrations of Q humming in pleasure.

_Mraow._

James silently groaned as he felt Q’s territorial calico jump onto his hip, her claws sinking briefly into his skin as she used him to pull herself up the rest of the way.  James had been dealing with occasional shredded clothing, knocked over mugs, and the _shedding_ ever since he’d all but unofficially moved into Q’s flat.  James twisted slightly to glare at Missy, who blinked innocently back at him.  “Q, it’s your cat,” he said finally.

“Mm. Missy, c’mere girl,” Q called, twisting a little more to get a better look at the animal.  “Come here…”

Missy walked contentedly up James’ side, pausing long enough to unexpectedly smack her forehead and rub her side against his face, causing the 00 agent to stiffen further while Q chuckled softly in amusement.  “See?  She likes you, I don’t know what you were so worried about,” he said as Missy stepped delicately from James to Q before jumping down onto the bed.

“I’ll agree once the dead mice stop appearing,” James grumbled as he buried his face into Q’s neck.

Q hummed thoughtfully as Missy curled up into the curl of his body, purring.  “James, remember when she whacked your head just now?” he asked after a moment.

“Yes.  Apparently I’m not the only one in the room with a thick skull,” James said, unconsciously rubbing his jaw.  That one had surprisingly hurt.

“That was just Missy’s way of bringing you into the family,” Q said, tucking his head underneath James’ jaw as he continued scratching Missy.  “You smell different to her.  She’s just making sure that you smell like her so that she can feel more comfortable around you and that other cats realize that you’re no longer available for the taking.”

James paused.  “She’s scent-marking me?” he asked, resisting the urge to bolt from the bed to wash his face.

“Just so no other cat can claim you, it’s a territorial thing,” Q replied as Missy nudged her head underneath his resting hand, tail thumping audibly against the duvet.  He smiled before leaning back to kiss James’ jaw.  “Welcome to the family.”

James quietly regarded him as Q turned back to coo at Missy.  For so long, a family had consisted of only Alec and wherever they happened to be at the time.  He’d never thought he would be able to find a partner with whom there were no secrets to hide, someone who would not shy away once James revealed his real occupation.  He just didn’t think it would ever happen, even more so after Vesper.

The prospect that he would one day die alone on the field was suddenly a frightening one, and he unconsciously tightened his arm around Q’s waist, kissing the back of Q’s neck before making a silent vow to protect and love this extraordinary man he had been fortunate to find.


	14. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit nsfw.

Time stretched so that a single moment seemed to last for hours.

Q tried not to fidget as he waited in the Arrivals area of Heathrow International Airport, careful to keep his expression schooled to one of apathy.  The arrival and departure boards were just in sight, but he ignored those in favor of watching and waiting for each influx of new arrivals.  Tugging his parka around himself closer, he clasped his hands behind his back to keep himself from twisting them in anxiety; airports in general had always put him on edge long before planes entered the equation.  He’d lucked out as a child only because his mother hadn’t liked traveling to begin with.

Glancing at his watch, he looked up as the doors opened and another crowd of passengers left the terminal.  James was late by almost two hours, his flight having experienced several delays first in Boston, where he completed the joint mission with the CIA, and then one more delay before his flight landed.

In other words, Q was steadily losing his excuse to be there as time ticked on.  His excuse had been to personally handle 005’s equipment change, and then he pointed out to M that it would save time if he picked up 007 while there.

His heart leapt into his throat when he recognized James, battered but _alive_ , approaching him while casually slinging his pack onto the other shoulder.  To anyone else, it looked as though James was merely approaching a chauffeur or an unlucky staff member roped into bringing him home, but it was taking all of Q’s willpower not to run to the 00 agent and hug him tight.

“Sir,” James greeted, noting the lines of tension in Q’s body as the other straightened to smile in greeting.

“Commander Bond, if you would follow me, please,” Q replied, gesturing for James to follow him to the car park.  He’d have to take James back to HQ, and there was a company car waiting for them.  James, he noticed, was careful to keep his body between Q and the other passengers, and Q almost smiled to himself before remembering that if he could see through the security cameras in the airport, then so could his staff.  They were so far oblivious to Q’s activities, but Q continued to worry.  Keeping James’ wish to keep their relationship secret hadn’t been too difficult at times, but this was one of those moments that Q wished he could and kiss his lover, not giving a damn about whom was watching.

James waited until they entered the garage before suddenly wrapping a hand around Q’s waist and pulling him behind a support column, earning a soft yelp of surprise from the other man. Q blinked when James braced him against the column, tilting his head up for a deep kiss.  He whispered “Oh” in surprise but accepted the kiss that pushed him against the wall, using his hands to brace himself. He smirked against James’ lips before wrapping his own hands around James’ waist and rolling his hips against James’ own.  A growl reverberated in James’ chest before he dumped the bag and crowded Q, teeth nipping his lips and neck before James ducked lower, carefully undoing the top few buttons of his cardigan and dress shirt underneath. 

“James… James, we can’t do that… not here, not where someone can walk in at any moment,” Q whispered, his breath hitching as James’ hands began to wander, brushing against Q’s hips before settling at his waist.  He closed his eyes briefly as James dragged his tongue against a nipple, trying desperately to bring his own libido under control as James’ hard length pressed against his thigh.

“No, no, you don’t get to tease like that and get away with it,” James whispered in Q’s ear, voice hoarse as his fingers carefully flexed around Q’s hips before resuming a semi-tight grip, as though James was holding on for dear life. 

Q gave a short, breathless laugh.  “ _Me_? I didn’t even start it,” he said, turning his head to kiss James again, reaching up to hold the agent still as James’ hands finally relaxed their grip.  Resting his hands on either side of James’ face, his eyes fluttered closed as James gently cupped the back of his neck and kissed him warmly.  He could tell that James was still very interested in continuing, but at least his hips had stopped the small thrusts against Q’s thigh, giving Q a chance to gather his thoughts.

Pulling away, Q rested his forehead against James’ and for a moment, neither of them said anything.  Q spent a few seconds trying to catch his breath before he whispered, “Is everything all right?”

“Yes.” James leaned forward to kiss Q again, as though to soothe over the curt response.   “I missed you very much,” he whispered again before nibbling Q’s earlobe for a moment.  A hand came up and wrapped itself in Q’s hair before James nosed the dark curls.  “Tonight, then?  Your flat?” he whispered after a moment.

“Yes, of course,” Q replied softly, a smile playing across his lips as he ran a gentle hand down the side of James’ face.  Studying James’ blue eyes for a moment, he felt a small twinge of concern when he realized that James was still running on adrenaline, he added quietly, “I missed you too, you know.  I… I can try to leave at five tonight.”

“Please do,” James murmured before tilting his head to better reach the soft skin underneath Q’s jaw, nibbling on it for a moment before soothing the soft sting with his tongue.  Q said nothing in response, gently combing his fingers through James’ short hair as he glanced around to make sure that they were still alone.  Making a mental note to erase the footage from any surveillance cameras, he gently lifted James’ head for a final, quick kiss before he stepped to the side to have room to fix his shirt and cardigan.  James wordlessly moved so that his back was against Q’s, giving the boffin a measure of privacy against prying eyes.  Then, when Q was finished in his attempt to look presentable again, he stepped forward to allow James a chance to collect the forgotten bag. 

Q swallowed back the slight frustration that they couldn’t be this close at MI6, where both men spent varying amounts of time during the day, and instead gestured for James to follow him as though nothing had happened.  Squaring his shoulders, Q schooled his features back into that of indifference, all the while wondering how James managed to compose himself effortlessly.

It wasn’t until they were in the car and Q was reaching for the gearshift on that James reached and touched the back of Q’s hand briefly.  Q looked up, momentarily startled, and they made eye contact for a second before James rested his hands back into his lap, where they remained for the rest of the car trip to SIS headquarters.


	15. Chance

“You know, there was once a chance I didn’t take.”

James paused from where he’d been wiping cum off Q’s bared stomach with a damp cloth.  The quartermaster was still stretched across James’ bed, skin pale against the darkness in the room and moving softly with each breath.  His head was turned away from James, but he wasn’t asleep; James could see where his eyes reflected the low lights from outside seeping through the curtains.  He looked younger at this angle, and James suddenly realized that despite the months they’d been together, he still didn’t know much about Q or his past.  Other than his first name, his university activities, and his friends, Q was still an enigma to him.

Instead of immediately replying, James tossed aside the dirty washcloth and lay down next to Q, pulling the sheets and clean duvet over the two of them.  Q turned back to face him, snuggling close as he tilted his head up so he could see James.  James pulled him closer before whispering, “What chance was that?”

Q reached up and brushed his fingers against James’ hair as though to brush it away.  “When I was in university, at the beginning of my second year, I ran into an ex-boyfriend of mine, he was starting his first year of teaching.  We’d parted on good terms, but we were able to pick our relationship up right where we left off, as though we’d never separated,” he said, turning on his back to stare at the ceiling.  “I even remember wondering once, ‘why did I ever leave him in the first place?’ a few days after we started going out again,” he admitted quietly. 

James was quiet for a moment.  “What happened?” he finally asked.

Q swallowed for a moment.  “He asked for too much, too soon.  We talked extensively about it, he was willing to wait until I finished school, I didn’t know because I didn’t know what I wanted to do after school.  Alana didn’t think it was a good idea, said that I must have had a good reason for leaving the first time,” he said quietly, fingers wrapping around James’ own and holding them.  He remained silent for a moment, and then said, “The night I was supposed to go to him, I just… didn’t.  I think I was afraid that being in a civil partnership with him wasn’t something I was going to want ten years in the future.  I mean, we’d split once already.  What was to say we wouldn’t do it again?”  He frowned, and then said, “Mum got sick around that time, so I had to leave school for a while.  I suppose you could still say I left out of cowardice, I stayed with Mum longer than necessary.”

James leaned down and gently kissed Q’s bare shoulder.  Oddly enough, he had felt no stirrings of jealousy at the mention of another man whom Q had held in high regard.  Turning to nuzzle the other man’s temple, he whispered, “Have you ever looked back since then?”

“Only once,” Q admitted, eyelids fluttering closed as James kissed his skin softly.  “After Skyfall, when I didn’t know what would happen to me.  I thought that I should have gone to join him after all, at least then I would have been alive and not about to be placed at the mercy of inquiry committees.”

“In the end, though, you managed to avoid those committees,” James reminded him, grinning before nipping wherever he could reach.

Q laughed, ineffectively pushing James away.  “Only because two certain double-oh agents decided to get into trouble overseas when they bit off more than they could chew,” he said, yelping in between laughs as James moved to cover him with his body, fingers skittering down Q’s ribs and teasing out the quartermaster’s sensitive spots.  “Oi, no…no tickling!” he protested half-heartedly as James rolled the two of them over, twisting the sheets around their legs but neither man cared.  James’ heart swelled at the sight of Q looking down at him, hair framing his face as green eyes carefully studied his own blue.  “C-Can I ask you a question?” Q asked finally, resting his chin on folded arms.

James nodded, lazily dragging his fingers down Q’s spine.

Q hesitated, the familiar flicker of _something_ appearing briefly in his eyes before it disappeared again, piquing James’ interest once more. He knew there was something Q was hiding from him, but hadn’t wanted to press lest he scared Q off permanently.  “What is it?” he asked softly.

Q pressed his lips together, but managed to summon his courage anyway.  “Why me?” he whispered.  “Out of everyone at MI6, or Q-Branch even, why did you choose me?”

James carefully tucked a few strands of hair behind Q’s ear before he said quietly, “Because you saw me as human, even when I and no one else saw it.  That’s how you treated me, and it took me a little while to catch on.”  Pulling Q down for a gentle kiss, he kept Q close so that they were touching noses.  Hands tightening slightly around the back of Q’s neck, he said, “And yet, for some reason, you haven’t pushed me away yet.  You know all the risks, and yet here you are.”

 _There_.  James hoped he wouldn’t have to elaborate his fear of Q dying, now that it was in the open.  Q seemed to understand anyway, leaning down to silently kiss James, nose brushing against James’ own as he seem to pour silent desperation into that one kiss. James gently cradled his head, humming as their tongues entwined in the warm heat of Q’s mouth.  Growling when he felt the surge of warm lust in his groin, James effortlessly switched their positions again, keeping a hand around Q’s waist as he flipped them and then pinned Q to the bed.  He groaned when he felt Q’s hands move to settle on his waist, even as he pressed his hardening cock against Q’s thigh.  When he pulled back for air, he saw that Q’s pupils were blown, and knew that his own weren’t much better. 

Q moved a hand to gently touch the side of James’ face, whispering “I’m glad I took this chance” before reaching down again, the familiar yet unnamed expression appearing yet again, albeit momentarily.  James caught the hand before it could go anywhere, and for a moment, time seemed to still as the two of them looked at each other.

“What is wrong, Q?” he asked, subtly putting a commanding edge in his voice.

Q hesitated, and James could see that he was retreating again; he wasn’t going to answer the question.  Against his better judgment, James decided to let it slide for now.  Releasing Q’s hand, he leaned down and whispered without thinking, “You don’t have to tell me now, but I do want to know soon.  Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow.  I love you too much to risk losing you, and if something is wrong, I want to know so I can help.”

Q let out a choked sound, but before James could analyze it further, Q reached up and pulled him down for another kiss, and all coherent thought flew out of James’ mind the second Q’s long fingers wrapped around his cock and squeezed.

Later.  James could always ask later.


	16. Morning

James came back to awareness when he felt something batting gently against his nose.

Grumbling under his breath, he turned and buried his face into the pillow, reaching out to push the offending object away while he mumbled, “Q, knock it off, I’m trying to sleep here-”

He only stopped when his fingers touched soft fur instead of hair. 

Blearily, he turned his head and opened his eyes to find Missy staring at him expectantly.  She tilted her head when he didn’t react right away, and then reached out again with a paw to bat gently against his nose again. James leaned back and out of her reach, stretching in the process. A smile played across his face when he felt Q’s body curled against him from behind.  Twisting back slightly and glimpsing the fringe of Q’s dark hair, James said, “Q, your baby needs something.” Then he turned back forward, grudgingly lifting his arm as Missy snuggled close so that she could lie down against his body, leaving him no choice but to rest his arm around her. 

“James, as far as Missy is concerned, we’re _her_ babies, and we’re pretty damn lucky to live in the house with her,” Q said, voice muffled as he too snuggled closer to James, nosing the back of James’ neck.  “What time is it?”

James glanced up at the clock.  “Almost six.”

“Mm.  Breakfast time for her.  This is why I’ve never bothered with an alarm clock, Missy _always_ wakes me up for breakfast,” Q said, finally settling down again.  “Then, since it’s close to getting up for work anyway, I just stopped trying to go back to bed.”  He nudged James in the back and said, “You can feed her since you’re closer to the kitchen.”

“No, bed’s too warm.  Don’t you need to get up anyway?” James said, reaching up to pull the duvet closer to him, nearly covering Missy in the process.

A small huff of laughter behind him. “Food is in the container in the front of the cabinet above the sink, go get it and I’ll get up,” Q said, nuzzling James’ neck as he managed to get the rest of the duvet over himself.  “Although don’t get up right at this moment, you’re too warm.”

James waited a total of five seconds before moving, a teasing smile on his lips as he shimmied out of the covers so that both Q and Missy did not lose the duvet.  Leaning down, he kissed Q’s temple softly before whispering, “If you don’t get up now, then R will have to run the department today and he’ll have no opposition with installing those Microsoft Vistas you’ve always hated.”

Q growled before swiping at James; the agent easily caught the hand and kissed the center of the palm before letting it go.  “You should never, _ever_ joke about something like that,” he complained, crawling to the now empty spot that James had vacated a few minutes before.  Missy let out a soft _mraow_ as Q pulled her closer.  “She’ll follow you once she hears the food.  I’ll bet you anything,” Q said before burying his face into James’ pillow, sensing James’ silent confusion and answering the unasked question.

James merely shook his head fondly before reaching for his jeans and slipping them.  Then he left the room, leaving the bedroom door open a crack and then heading into the kitchen to feed Missy.  He found the food right where Q said it was in the cabinet. He was pulling the plastic lid off when he heard a faint _thump_ in the bedroom followed by the rhythmic pattering of paws on the hardwood floor.  “It’s unnerving how cats do that,” he muttered to himself as Missy appeared at his feet, meowing as she rubbed herself against his legs.  “Let’s hope that you’ve trained Q to do the same thing once I get breakfast going,” he added, setting the filled bowl down in its usual place in the corner of the kitchenette.  Then he got both the kettle and the coffeemaker (since when had that been there?) started so that their preferred drinks would be ready soon.

He was in the middle of frying bacon and eggs when he finally heard the shower running.  Q came out a few minutes later, dressed but still using a towel to dry his hair and leaving it in sharp spikes as he nearly walked into the counter.  James easily caught him in the nick of time and pulled him close to his side.  Kissing the damp hair, James asked, “Where are your glasses?”

“Dunno, in the bedroom.  Maybe.  Last night’s a bit of a blur after they came off,” Q replied, nuzzling underneath James’ jaw as the latter turned his focus back to the food.  A hand wrapped around his waist and Q murmured in his ear, “Are you sure I should get them now?”

James briefly debated the merits of letting Q continue with his plan before nodding, bumping foreheads gently with Q before nudging him toward the bedroom. “Check the bedside table, and on the floor around there if it’s not there,” he said, nearly missing the brief look of disappointment on Q’s face.  “And then we can continue if you’d like to, I just won’t be the one to explain to M why we’re late,” he added.

“Somehow, I get the feeling that our excuse will not be the oddest one that M’s ever received for tardiness,” Q said, detaching himself to head back to the bedroom, tossing his towel to rest on his shoulder.  “You should hear some of the ones that I get from the Q-Branch staff.” He paused in the doorway to turn back to James before mimicking in a high-pitched voice, “ _Oh_ , I am _so_ sorry for coming in three hours late, sir, my dog got tangled in the laundry and I had to take it to the vet because it swallowed a button and yada, yada…”

“I’ll have to take your word for it, your staff gets jumpy whenever I head down, even with a good reason,” James replied in good humor as he pulled down two plates.  “Hurry up or I’ll be eating your breakfast after I finish mine.”

Q made a face before disappearing into the bedroom. 

James merely shook his head as he returned to the food.  It was not quite the life he’d expected to have in almost two years after Skyfall, but he didn’t have any complaints.  The axe of mortality still hung over his neck—it always would so long as he was an active 00 agent—but nowadays he found it easier to ignore.  Whether he could still avoid it just as easily as before still remained to be seen since he had not been sent out in several weeks: a distressingly long time for him.

Unaware of his thoughts, Q returned, walking briskly as he buttoned up a new cardigan.  He tried to snatch a piece of bacon straight from the pan, but James was faster, catching his wrist and lifting it to his lips to kiss lightly before releasing the limb altogether.  “I’m just about to serve, no need to be impatient,” he chided gently before Q made a face and moved to the electric kettle, where the water finished boiling as he reached for it.

No, James decided as he set the table while Q bemoaned the lack of Earl Grey in the cupboards behind him.  He wouldn’t give up this life for anything.  He didn’t want to.


	17. Invitation

Q was elbow-deep in code when he heard the office door open.

Silently swearing to himself at the second interruption in twenty minutes—the first had been an unexpected phone call from Alana—he made a note on the nearby notepad of his place before looking up, praying that it wasn’t another distraction; he was close enough.  James sauntered in, closing the door behind him and locking it before approaching the quartermaster.  “Double-oh seven, how can I help you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as James walked around his desk and moved to stand right in front of him, resting his hands on Q’s upper arms.  “I take it that this is a social call, then?” he asked, reaching to the side to press a button and darken his office windows.

James nodded. “I was bored.  Well, Alec and I were bored, and then I tricked him into going to Eve’s office to go bother her, so that I could sneak down here and bother you,” he said, releasing Q’s arms to fuss with the tie and Q’s hair.

Q pulled back, batting away at James’ hands when he fiddled with the tie.  “Nothing’s wrong with my tie.  Do you have all your medical obligations fulfilled?” he asked, making a face as James’ fingers found his cardigan buttons.  “Do you ever have anything else on your mind?” he asked, patiently buttoning the cardigan as his fingers followed James’.

“Of course I do, it’s just that your cardigans are not very flattering to your figure,” James said, unhappily plucking at the cardigan, but did not try to take it off altogether.  Burying his face into Q’s neck, he mumbled, “You should come home on time more often, I miss you when you’re here.”

Q merely hummed in response, deciding _not_ to point out that it had been James’ idea to keep their relationship a secret from the rest of MI6 for now.  “Well, for what it’s worth, you’ll get to see me in a tux soon,” he said, grinning when James stilled.

James pulled back to carefully study his face.  “Oh? Dare I ask about the occasion?” he asked warily, blue eyes narrowing slightly as he brushed some hair back from Q’s face.

“Nothing like that.  Remember Alana?” Q asked, gently wrapping his hands around James’ neck as James’ hands settled around Q’s waist.

A half-smirk appeared on James’ face.  “What about her?” he inquired in a calm tone.  Q still caught the edge of something unidentifiable in the agent’s tone, and leaned up to kiss the corner of James’ mouth.

Still remaining close, he whispered, “She called fifteen minutes ago, and she is getting married to her partner of three years in a few months.  She wants us to come to the wedding.” Nuzzling James affectionately, he added, “Kate, her partner, has maternal grandparents living in Sussex, and as a wedding present, they’ve offered to pay for the venue here in London since they don’t want to travel.”

“Would you have gotten in a plane anyway, for an occasion like that?” James replied, nibbling on the earlobe closest to him, drawing Q closer so that they were flush against each other.

“Mm.  For Alana… I probably would, she is one of my old close friends. It’s securing enough leave time from M that would have been the hardest part,” Q admitted, enjoying the warmth as James’ hands ran down the expanse of his back.  Then he gently pushed the agent away and said, “I’m assuming, hopefully correctly, that you do know how to dance?”

James stared at him incredulously before he leaned back on the desk and asked, “I’m sorry, how many years have you been working here again?”

Q threw his hands up in defense.  “Two and a half.  It’s a reasonable question, I just found out the other day that Thomas only knows one dance and is a master at bluffing his way through the rest since his partners usually don’t know any better themselves.  The other day, I had asked him and Tess to demonstrate the salsa for an upcoming mission since I wanted to find the best place for a camera on his person to keep an eye on the target even as Thomas moved.  Tess knew what she was doing, Thomas, on the other hand, did not.  I only found out because Tess nearly shredded him for stepping on her feet,” he explained, remembering the look of absolute fury on 009’s face as 008 explained, sheepishly, about his shortcoming.

James snorted.  “I bet he learned pretty fast after that,” he remarked.

“Especially when Tess threatened to poke him with a knife for each time he stepped on her foot.  Interesting use of incentives, but not one that I would have gone for,” Q said before turning his back to reach for his mug on one of the higher shelves for his afternoon tea.  He figured that he could easily multitask by talking to James while getting his tea, and still get back to work without losing too much time.

A hand and arm snaked around his waist and pulled him back against James. “And what… _incentives_ , would you be open to?” James whispered, breath hot against Q’s skin.

Q huffed.  “I know how to dance, thank you very much,” he said, reaching down to try prying James’ arm off from his waist with very minimal success.  He tried not to melt when he felt James kiss the back of his neck before laving the skin with his tongue.  “And I can dance more than one style.  I learned in school because Evan didn’t want to go to classes alone.”

James didn’t immediately respond, his forehead resting against the back of Q’s neck as his body shook with silent laughter.  “One day, Q, we are going to sit down and you’re going to tell me all the mischief you got up to in school, Alec and I had so much money riding the bet that you were all prim, proper, and well behaved.  No wonder Tess was confident about making the bet with us,” he said, nuzzling Q once more before straightening up and turning Q around.  “However, I have yet to see you actually dance, and I don’t want to take your word for it.”

“James, if you want something, then bloody well _ask_ ,” Q chided as James smirked before taking Q’s hand and leading him to the center of the office. “Besides, I could always use the practice for the wedding,” he added as an afterthought as James set the two of them up in the starting position.  “Music?”

“Imagine it for now, I’m not going to bother when it took me this long just to get you out here,” James replied serenely despite the smirk still on his face.  “Shall we start?”

Q nodded, grinning despite himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting this yesterday, things got too crazy and I became overwhelmed. Currently working to catch up, don't worry :)


	18. Suit

“Q! If you’re not ready to go in ten minutes, we’re not going at all!” James called into the flat, trying not to show any sign of impatience. 

“One moment, please!”

“In which case, I’ll be here in the living room,” James said, sitting down as Missy jumped into his lap; he hadn’t been by the flat for the last couple days ever since he willingly went to Medical while Q became embroiled in overhauling the entire security system so that it would accept the latest Q-Branch program updates.  Missy apparently missed him though; she began purring and rubbing her body against his suit, getting white and brown fur all over the black fabric of his suit.  He absently scratched her back as he listened to Q scrambling in the other room; Alana had apparently asked him to stand in as a friend and give her away, her father had evidently refused to attend the wedding.  James had assisted with finding a proper suit for the occasion, a task he’d approached with relish.  M had been hesitant at first about tying up an asset and a key administrative, but then James explained patiently that Q had been invited to a private event, he was well within his rights to accept, and James would just go along as the discreet bodyguard.

Somehow, M accepted the excuse at face value.

James looked down with a slight frown as Missy lay on her back, exposing her belly for scratches, purring loudly.  “You think I’m going to reward you for getting fur all over my suit right before the event?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“If you give me a moment, I’ll get you the sticky roller, she’s been getting fur on me too,” Q said, voice still muffled through the door.

James snorted softly, obliging Missy with the scratching.  “Have you thought of just using the roller on her and getting the loose fur off?” he asked, focusing on keeping his fingers a safe distance from the cat’s paws.

“James, I learned from _that_ one early on, when she still lived with Mum.  Unless you don’t mind your arm getting shredded, then by all means, go ahead,” Q said, stepping out; James only heard his footsteps, as he was focused on the potential claws.  The quartermaster nervously cleared his throat and said, “Well, do I pass muster?”

James looked up, and then stopped scratching Missy as his breath caught in his throat.  Q was wearing the tuxedo that had been carefully tailored to his size, the dark fabric contrasting nicely with his pale skin.  He’d gone with James’ advice toward the single-breasted jacket, and had been careful with maintaining the crisp folds in the trousers and white dress shirt. Then he’d traded his glasses for contacts, and then used product in his hair, coming off with the familiar yet foreign disheveled mop of hair pushed to the side near the back with a floppy fringe in the front.  He swallowed nervously before he said, “Well?”

 _Bloody hell_.  “You look fantastic,” James said, gingerly setting Missy aside so he could stand up and approach his lover.  He reached out and carefully adjusted the slightly crooked bowtie.  “This matches with the cummerbund, right?” he asked, checking Q over just to have the excuse to touch the other man.

“Mm-hmm.  I also have the cufflinks that you lent me, I can give them back after the wedding,” Q said, looking down where he was fidgeting with the cuffs as though unable to meet James’ eye. James carefully wrapped the smaller hands in his own, controlling his breathing as he recalled the first time he’d held those hands.  He doubted Q remembered, as he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness at the time.

Turning one of those now healed hands over, the left one, he allowed himself the momentary luxury of imagining a thin gold band on the ring finger.  Nothing ostentatious, just a promise that he would have someone to always come home to, someone who knew what he had to do and could heal him at the end of the day.

 _Stop. You’re getting sentimental only because of the occasion.  If he’s lucky, he’ll survive just while dating you.  Marriage would definitely kill him_.

“We should get going,” he said, not quite meeting Q’s slightly confused expression as he released Q’s hands and stepped back, turning to the door.  “Alana will have our heads if we’re late, especially since you’re going to be in the bridal party.”

“Right, she does get a little tetchy about that sort of thing.” Q gently snagged James’ arm and pulled him back.  “Fur,” he said pointedly, holding up the sticky roller for emphasis.  “Missy sheds, you’re always complaining about it,” he said, running the roller down James’ trousers and jacket.  “But, as I’ve told you time and time again, it’s a hazard of living with a cat.”

“I do want to wear dark colors around in the flat,” James said, making a face as Q released him to set the roller aside and usher them out the door.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind sacrificing a jumper to the cause, then by all means, go ahead,” Q teased as the two of them headed down the stairs to the waiting car below.  He glanced back at James, grinning before turning forward again.  James silently reviewed the spark of happiness in the other man’s eyes, the one he’d seen for a split second, before tucking it away in his mind. 

Q had been lucky so far.  As quartermaster, he was forever vigilant about his own safety, but all it would take was one lucky strike.  Then it would be all over in a second.

With the way things were about to go, he didn’t know when, if at all, he would ever see that spark again.


	19. Dance

“There you are.”

Q nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected voice behind him; he’d stepped outside onto the veranda to get a breath of fresh air and talk himself out of the fourth (fifth?) glass of champagne that Alana had offered at some point earlier, at the beginning of the reception.  He turned to find James standing there, and then leaned against the veranda railing before he said, “I didn’t realize you were looking for me.”

“Well, now you do,” James replied amiably, setting down his empty glass before extending a hand.  Q raised an eyebrow, but accepted the hand, smiling as they moved into the modified position they had practiced in Q’s office.  He flushed in embarrassment when James abruptly tugged on his wrist, causing him to stumble into James’s arms.  James then wrapped an arm around his waist and simply held him there as they slowly moved to the music from indoors.

“Oh, don’t you look content with yourself?” Q finally muttered after a moment, earning a soft huff of laughter that vibrated pleasantly against Q’s chest.  “Do you do that to everyone you dance with?” he asked teasingly, swallowing down the slight twinge of jealousy at the thought.

“Only with the ones that not only do I love, but also plan to lure to bed after,” James teased, ducking down to kiss Q while holding his head in place.  Q caught the heady scent of wine on the agent’s breath, and moaned into the kiss when James’s hands drifted lower.  James swallowed before gently pressing teeth against sensitive skin.  “How much time before we can go home?” he finally asked, breath fluttering against heated skin.

Q swallowed, bringing himself back to the present.  “Not for another hour or two, sorry love,” he said, reaching up to gently brush the back of James’s neck.  He hesitated, well aware that the next question was none of his business, really, but he had to ask out of curiosity anyway.  “I saw you talking with Alana earlier, by the buffet table.  She looked a bit angry… what was that all about?” he asked, breath hitching when James bit down gently on a pulse point before sucking it gently.  “Below the collar, _please_ , James, I don’t want to have to explain to my staff or M why I have love bites all over my neck…”

“If they haven’t figured it out on their own by now, or at least _suspect_ something, then they should consider a transfer,” James retorted before kissing the mark in apology and gently maneuvering Q so that they were back in their dance position.  For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, dancing slowly in place, until James sighed.  “Alana.  She, ah, gave me the equivalent of the ‘Hurt him and I’ll hurt you’ speech,” he said, grip tightening ever so slightly on Q’s hands.  Q remained silent, recalling James’s expressions earlier that day, the way they shifted from something tender to his terrifyingly familiar 007 mask.  Q had surmised that James _could_ be on the verge of pulling away for some unknown reason (Q would have to look into that as soon as James was asleep later tonight).  Q may be a master at confrontations in the virtual world, but there was something more personal and damaging about face-to-face fights that, if he wasn’t prepared, could leave him reeling.

It had happened twice already.  Three could just be it for him.

“Oh, did she really?” he said, light horror leaking into his tone when he realized the full implications.  Pulling back, he said, “Oh, I’m sorry, James, she gets that way sometimes, all up in your face and-”

“Actually, she was pretty civil about the whole thing,” James replied amiably, moving along to the music, his voice still soothing as though speaking to a panicking charge.  Which, Q mused, he sort of was; M believed that 007 had accompanied Q to a private event as personal security, and Q had assured him that no debriefing paperwork would be necessary.  “Enlightening conversation as well.  She didn’t pry into your business, but gave me enough to work from.”

Q took a steadying breath.   _Now or never_.

James merely sighed instead of pressing onward. He tugged Q closer, but instead of kissing him as Q expected, he rested Q’s head against his chest.  He was quiet for a moment, and then Q felt him lower his head so that his lips brushed Q’s ear as he said, “And Q?”

“Mm?”

“I would greatly appreciate it if you could somehow delete any security footage of this event… of us specifically.  Or at least put it somewhere that no one other than you and me can get to.  Alec was kind enough to alert me earlier this evening that Tess suspects something and was nosing about in Q-Branch today, after you left,” he muttered back.

“If she hasn’t figured it out on her own by now, or _at least_ suspect something, she should consider a transfer,” Q quipped, and James snorted.

“Will would have both our heads if we arranged for a transfer,” he said, holding Q closer.

“Not if we sent them somewhere warm,” Q said before he closed his eyes, chuckling softly as he listened to the steady heartbeat, the two dancing aimlessly across the veranda.

 


	20. Attempt

James received the plea for help at around noon.

‘ _My flat. Prepare for a potential confrontation with agitated 00 agent’_.

Puzzled, and completely bemused, James stopped by Q-Branch on his way out of MI6 headquarters only to learn that Q had disappeared at some point earlier that morning on his way back from a meeting with M. The only thing that kept James from fully panicking was that Q had just texted him with his phone… and since no one in MI6 had yet assembled a recovery team, he could only surmise it was not a serious kidnapping in the halls of MI6.  His answer to the kidnapper’s identity came through though, when he coerced R into setting everything down so he could pull up the security tapes for James’s review.

Tess.

“She did seem agitated earlier, something about double-oh eight messing up her schedule since he couldn’t dance,” R said as the two watched Q listen to her words before reluctantly nodding, sending a pleading look at the nearest security camera before following Tess to the front doors.  He checked a dossier, and then grimaced. “She must have fallen behind on preparing for her own mission… oops.”

“What was her mission?” James asked, leaning over R’s shoulder to get a better look at the dossier.

“To worm her way into a French mafia’s home by pretending to be part of the cooking staff… this was an odd one because the mafia boss suspects he’ll be poisoned through his food, so he requires that every individual in the kitchen knows how to prepare food well so that he can be assured that the ‘incompetent’ staff member isn’t actually the one plotting to kill him through the excuse of badly prepared food,” R said, raising an eyebrow.  “Talk about taking paranoia to a whole new level…”

“And then the dance lessons would have taken her preparation time out, hence the need to kidnap Q,” James said, shaking his head in dismay.  Sighing, he said, “I’ll be right back with your quartermaster.”

“Can you swipe some food for us?  We’re kind of hungry over here…” a staff member said as James walked by his desk.

“ _You’re_ just hungry, you didn’t stop at lunch break like the rest of us!” Marcela complained from where she was sitting. “I am _not_ going to wait for you to-”

James sighed once the Q-Branch doors shut behind him; Q deserved a little more credit for his patience if this was what he had to put up with daily from his own staff each time someone walked into the branch.  The staff reminded him of puppies sometimes; calm when left to their own devices, but easily excitable whenever someone walked in and hard to calm down afterwards.

He finally arrived to Q’s flat with a sense of trepidation, the dread growing with each step as he climbed the stairs to the fourth floor.  Tess, when she put her mind to it, had a tendency to ignore any protests and notice all escape attempts.  Well aware that there was a chance she could rope him into cooking, he squared his shoulders, unlocked the flat door, and slipped inside.

At first glance, nothing appeared out of place.  

There was no mess; the entire living room looked the same way it did when James had left that morning.  He could hear footsteps and low-voiced conversations in the kitchen, but it was the pitiful _miaow_ that caught his attention first.

Missy was perched on top of the highest bookcase, twice her usual size from puffed-out fur.  Careful eyes followed James as he approached the bookcase, and she let out another cry as he got closer.  “Come on, Missy, let’s go get the mean lady who broke into your home and rescue your kitten,” he said, careful to speak loud enough for both Tess and Q to hear.

There was an exasperated groan from the kitchen, followed by Tess’s snickers. “You know, now that he’s mentioned it, you do kind of resemble a kitten,” she said, laughter audible in her voice as James grinned, hearing the quartermaster’s familiar footsteps.  

Q stuck his head into the living room, scowling.  “Just shut up and get in here, I am _not_ a kitten!” he said indignantly as Missy abruptly jumped down from the bookcase onto James, startling the 00 agent for a moment.

“Missy doesn’t know that,” James chided as she jumped out of his arms, obediently padding over to Q.  He raised an eyebrow when he took in Q’s disheveled state; there was a white powdery substance in his hair, his glasses were on crooked, and there was something that looked suspiciously like wet dough on his shoulder.  It then took James another moment to notice that Q was wearing an old T-shirt and jeans; evidently, he loved his cardigans more than James anticipated.  “Didn’t know you liked to cook,” he said, grinning.

Q rolled his eyes.  “Apparently, as Quartermaster, it is my duty to assist the 00 agents in whatever task _they_ deem that qualifies as ‘needing help’,” he said irritably as Tess poked her head out of the kitchen. “She couldn’t cook in her own bloody kitchen because of the children.”

“Oh, good, you’re here. Help Q with the last batch, and then I’ll be right back with more flour,” she said before walking past him to the front door.  Shrugging on her coat, she said, “I shouldn’t be gone for a few more minutes.”

James waited until she was gone and the door securely closed before he turned back to Q.  “ ‘Last batch’?” James repeated as he followed Q into the kitchen, where it looked somewhat clean, aside from the flour and splatters of wet dough dotting the counters.  He’d been expecting more of a disaster zone. “What is she making?”

“Bread.  Something to show off the extent of her culinary abilities in comparison with the biscuits and little cakes. Although I think she’s using the latter to bribe me for something,” Q said, nodding to the sealed containers nearby.  “Not that I’m complaining.  In university, you learn quickly not to question free food.”

“Mm, I’d kick that habit if I were you, in case someone decides to use it against you,” James warned as he assessed the situation in front of him.  They were still working on preparing the dough.  He glanced at the printed recipe between them and then began hunting for the yeast.

“Oh, someone already did.  When they were trying to initially arrest me, Tess and Will laced some biscuits with a sedative and invited me over to their flat to ‘welcome me to the building’.  Luckily, I had an appointment later that day, so I took the biscuits with me and didn’t actually eat them until after I’d arrived to Alana’s house.  She let me crash there until I woke up again,” Q said nonchalantly as he studied the recipe again before eyeing the dough in the bowl.  “I think I did this right…”

“What’s the consistency?” James asked, raising an eyebrow at the liquidy goop that Q was pouring out of a spoon and back into the bowl.  “You need more flour.”

Q sniffed as he stood on his stool to reach for the bag of flour on the top shelf, Missy weaving herself around the stool’s legs.  “I should be working right now, we had testing today,” he grumbled as he reached for the bag, fingers straining.  “I wonder what she told M-”

The bag slipped from the shelf.

_Poof!_

James remained absolutely still for a moment, listening to the scampering of feet as a whitened-Missy tore out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of white paw prints in her wake. Then, blinking flour out of his eyes, he looked up at Q, who looked shocked at the white mess that covered every available surface.  His head and chest escaped the mess unscathed, which was more than James knew he could say for himself.  “Q?” he said, snapping the quartermaster out of his trance.

“Y-Yeah?” Q said, slowly lowering himself as he scanned the kitchen, mouth still hanging open.

“You missed a spot.” With that, James threw a handful of flour in the general direction of Q’s face.  He listened to the other man sputter in indignation while he took the opportunity to wipe his face.  Q now had a white, powdery splatter across his neck, upper chest, and mouth.  

Scowling, Q reached for his bowl without thinking and flicked some doughy goop at James, who easily ducked the first attack but went straight into the second.  “Last chance, Quartermaster, for mercy,” he warned, grinning as he reached for the measuring cup that still had water.

Q puffed up indignantly and said, “What, me?  You started it!”

“Did not.” James took a handful of water and tossed it at Q while ducking the next flour attack.

He lost track of time after that, only keeping in mind Q’s and Missy’s locations; Missy had wandered back into the kitchen at some point, mistakenly assuming that the one lull in the battle meant the war was over.  She was now hiding underneath a chair as Q used the now-empty bowl as an impromptu shield while James used his quick reflexes.  Water, flour, and liquidy dough sailed across the kitchen as Q took refuge near the sink while James purloined what flour he could from the counter.

Then Q nearly slipped in some of the gooey dough on the floor, taking his attention away from James and defending himself.  James took the opportunity to lunge forward and knock aside the lowered bowl so that he could catch Q around the middle and hoist him up onto the nearby counter, their lips crashing as he swallowed Q’s squeal of surprise and dug his fingers into Q’s back.  Q’s own hands clutched first his shirt then the sides of his head as James pulled him closer.

Somehow, it was something of a lust-filled blur to James, the two found themselves on the floor, Q moaning and writhing underneath James as James explored the other man’s body with expert fingers.  Leaning down next to Q’s ear, he whispered harshly, “Will Tess walk in on us?”

Q giggled, the sound morphing into a groan as James’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans. “N-No, the door locked after she left, so it’s just you and me now,” he said, grinning as he rolled his hips against James’s.  He let out a breathless laugh as James bit underneath his jaw. “I love you, I love what we have,” he whispered playfully in James ear before moving his head to kiss the agent.  “God, I love you so much.  I want to stay with you fore-”

James pulled back and had a hand over the startled quartermaster’s mouth, flinching at the jolt of panic as he recalled where he’d heard similar words before, and from whom. “Don’t.  No. You don’t,” he said, carefully watching Q’s eyes, only relaxing infinitesimally when he saw the comprehension in the other man’s eyes. “This—us—can’t last forever, I thought you of all people would know that.  You’ve seen what happens to those who say that to me,” he said, keeping his hand on Q’s mouth to better keep the other man’s attention.

Q raised an eyebrow, but mutely nodded.

_Knock, knock!_

James released Q so he could get up.  “All right, all right, I get it. Won’t kid around like that next time,” Q said, studiously brushing off what he could from his clothes before trying to do the same to his hair.  Giving up, he smiled brightly at James and said, “Let me go fend Tess off and then we can go back to where we were, hmm?”

“Tell her to come back in a few hours,” James said, smirking as he turned to watch Q walk out of kitchen, a slight, enticing sway to his hips.  

He stood up as he heard Tess cry out in dismay, and the hushed argument before Q shut the door and jogged right back to James, who pulled him back into the tight embrace as before.  Instead of giving back in to the temptation to take Q on the floor, James instead steered them towards the bedroom, determined to put their previous conversation as nothing but a memory.

They didn’t get permission to have ‘forever’.  James would most likely die on the field, or, heaven forbid, Q might die in a branch accident or attack on headquarters. James could stay like this though, seeing Q outside of headquarters as they carried on their idea of a relationship.  Marriage, a civil partnership, anything more binding would only hurt even more should something drastic happen to either of them.  This way, the lower level of commitment would make it easier for the survivor to move on.

James could live with that, since he could now leave England knowing that Q had a chance of recovering should James die on the field.


	21. Fracture

It started with a single dossier.

“And for the love of _God_ , James, bring it back all intact,” Q said as James followed him around the modified Aston Martin.  The agent was heading out to Zurich on a mission to recover stolen American tech, which Q was planning to hold onto once it was recovered.  The target in question was a man named Joaquin Ramirez, and his name had crossed Q’s desk only a few days before when he made a spectacular entrance to a ‘top-secret’ conference in Zurich.  Patting the hood of the gleaming Aston Martin, Q turned back to James and said, “I, along with a Q-Branch staff member, will follow you six hours after you leave since there might be some technical aspects to the mission that you might need assistance with on-site, and I’d rather we were already there as opposed to rushing to your aid.”

James frowned as he followed Q, who kept inspecting the car for last minute problems.  “What kind of problems do you anticipate?” he asked, unnerving Q with how close he hovered over the quartermaster.

“The safe that holds the tech is rigged to blow after three failed attempts.  I have half a mind to nix your role in that part altogether and get in there myself.  You could just bring the safe to the room that Nicholson and I will use as our base of operations, and we’d work on it,” Q said almost absently as he knelt to make sure that the hidden guns in the tire rims were oiled and ready to go.  

He heard James huff impatiently.  “Or I could just do it all there, and you could guide me along in my ear so that you don’t have to leave London.  Simpler that way,” he said, and Q sighed.

“Simpler, but more cumbersome when I can’t see the problem for myself,” Q countered mildly before standing up again and making a note on his clipboard.  

He heard James shift.  “Honestly, I’d rather you didn’t go at all,” he finally said in a somewhat curt tone.

Q closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then kept walking.  “Your concern is duly noted,” he replied, refusing to rise to the bait.  James had been somewhat prickly lately, and Q had put it down to restlessness from a lack of active field missions.  Deep down, Q suspected that it had more to do with the words he’d carelessly uttered without thinking, when he and James had ‘helped’ Tess with her mission, but he’d opted to let the matter lie instead of bringing it up again. “Besides, you have no jurisdiction in what I can and can’t do, because last I checked, you are not M,” he added as a parting shot before checking the condition of the headlights.

He didn’t even need to be looking at James to know that the 00 agent was getting irritated.  “Maybe I don’t want to see you get _shot_ ,” James said after a moment, voice still calm but Q could sense the anger underneath.  “You’re safer here. Send R instead.”

“And put R in danger like that because I won’t face it?  Threaten R into going, and you can kiss your credit history goodbye.  Coerce him anyway, and you’ll be in Belmarsh for a week,” Q warned as he made a few notes on his clipboard, scribbles at this point since he couldn’t bear to face James quite yet.  “Besides, you can relax.  I’m not going to be one of your girls.  That’s Ramirez’s wife you’re confusing me with.”

Silence, and Q mentally kicked himself for speaking without thinking.  James, exercising that incredible self-control of his, was quiet for another few moments before he said, “No. You. Are. Not. Going.”

“James, I can handle explosives, I can handle gunfights, I’m not _delicate_ ,” Q said, turning around to face the agent.  Swallowing when he realized that James’s arms tense but at his side and worryingly near the issued Walther (Q shouldn’t have given him that so soon), he said, “I am going, whether you like it or not.”  Raising an eyebrow, he added, “Unless there is another reason you don’t want me to come?  Such as interfering with any methods of interrogation?” He couldn’t hide the undertone of bitterness in his voice, it just slipped out.  Fine, James didn’t want them to remain together as long as Q wanted.  Q could live with that.  But Q also _didn’t_ want to be at the same level as one of the numerous so-called ‘Bond Girls’, where he was nothing but a means of killing time until the next mission.  He wanted to be more than that, but he’d been a fool to think that was possible with James, no matter whatever the other man had said to lure him in.

There was a reason that Agent 007 was so damn successful.

James narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he took a few steps forward, Q almost unconsciously backing away as he matched James step for step.  He let out a squeak when his back finally hit the back of the car garage wall, and held his breath as James moved into his personal space, placing both his arms on either side of Q.  “You know what I have to do for Queen and country, Q,” he growled softly.  “That doesn’t necessarily mean I _enjoy_ doing it, contrary to what you and the lab rats seem to think.  But the mission takes precedence over everything else, so keeping the girl alive isn’t usually at the top of my list of priorities.  In this case, I can’t focus on keeping you alive if you want me to retrieve the tech.”

Q’s lips thinned. “And you won’t have to because you’ll be doing the fucking mission, which, as you _astutely_ pointed out just now, takes precedence over everything else,” he snapped, trying not to panic when he tried to push James back only to meet a solid wall of resistance.  He took a steadying breath before he said, “Please step back, I need to finish inspecting the car.”

“I’m not finished talking to you,” James countered.  Q felt pinned as the ice blue eyes studied his, and then narrowed.  “And what made you think I was confusing you with ‘those girls’?” he asked.

Q stiffened, but paused.  Once he spoke, he knew it would be all over.  Trying to keep his composure, he raised a hand to start ticking off fingers.  “One, draw individual in with pretty words. Two, make the person bloody well believe that she actually _means_ something to you. Three, sex.  Four, spend time with her, doesn’t matter if you’re both running for your lives or not, you can bond either way.  Pass the time with sex until the next chunk of action. And five, detach yourself from her as soon as possible,” he said, voice dropping in volume with each one as his heart pounded in fear; James could very well kill him and hide the evidence.  He knew he wasn’t being fair at all in this, but he felt embarrassed and humiliated that he let James take it this far.  The slip, when the two had been in his kitchen, just topped it all.  “I never wanted that, James.  I wanted something more, but I see I was an idiot to expect that much from you.”

He let out a fearful whimper as James grasped his chin and lifted it so that they could make eye contact.  “Is that what you saw it as?” James snarled softly. “All because I didn’t fucking go along with your ‘forever’ nonsense?  That’s _rich_ , coming from you.  Why is it that you bolted from Martin Tavalrez when he asked you to marry him?”

Q felt the white-hot anger flare in his chest at that reference.  Alana.  It had to have been Alana who told James about the incident from Q’s second year of university.  He was going to kill her once she got back from her honeymoon.  “I was a _student_ , I wasn’t ready, I didn’t _want_ to be married _that_ early!” he snarled, jerking his chin out of James’s grip and nearly whacking his head on the cement behind him.  

“Maybe I wasn’t ready, did that ever occur to you?”

Q snorted; he’d skimmed James’s files in the beginning, after taking over the post of Quartermaster and was informed that 007 had returned and was ready for his next briefing.  “Liar, you would have fucking said something,” he snapped, trying again to push James away; the agent budged slightly, but didn’t move away completely.

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you would _like_ , then,” James nearly shouted, moving so that Q reflexively looked up at him again.  “We are trained to _lie_ , Q.  Have you forgotten that already? You told me _everything_ that I could have easily bullied R into showing me in your personnel file. How accurate are your files on me?  Absolutely?  Boothroyd kept everything on hard copies, it wasn’t until _you_ showed up that files became digitized.”  Leaning in dangerously close, he whispered, “Files can be forged.  We work in the business of living in lies.  What makes you so confident that I didn’t lie through my teeth to you the entire time?”

Q flinched, looking away as he focused on keeping a firm resolve.  “In which case,” he said, not quite meeting the agent’s eyes, “I’ll accept that as a vocal confirmation of what I’ve always wondered recently.”  Pulling out the Aston Martin keys, he pushed the key fob into the agent’s nearest hand.  Gathering the shreds of his own dignity, he looked up and calmly met blue eyes with his own green.  “Welcome back, Agent double-oh seven,” he said before ducking underneath the other’s arm.  “I had always wondered where you’d gone after the Australian mission,” he said, not bothering to hide the hurt in his voice; 007 couldn’t touch him now.  “But, as I can see, you were hard at work doing what you do best,” he added as he reached for the door that would lead straight to MI6, ignoring the ominous _click_ as it closed behind him while he walked to the lifts.

He pushed off the impending breakdown for when he got to his office and closed the door, locking it.  Leaning against the door, he slowly sank to the ground before resting his face in his hands.

_What have I done?_

_I don’t know what to do now._


	22. Priority

It didn’t take long for the mission to go straight to hell.

“ _Your backup is on the way,”_ R said in a terse voice as Bond ran down the hotel hall toward the lobby, Elena Ramirez behind him.  Trapped in a loveless marriage, she had agreed to help Bond on the condition that he got her out of her current situation.  Her husband was neither abusive nor neglectful, in fact, the way Bond saw it, Joaquin treated Elena with the utmost kindness both in public and privacy. Elena was simply unhappy being tied to a man she did not love, it had been an arranged marriage for them both and Joaquin did not permit her to seek a divorce simply because she knew too much of his operations.

She’d even told Bond where to find the missing American tech, a decoder used during the Cold War, but when the two had arrived to the hotel room in question, the safe’s explosives had already been triggered with two of Ramirez’s four bodyguards lying dead nearby.  The decoder was gone, but even with the mission scrubbed—R hadn’t seen who had taken the decoder—Bond knew he was still in danger as the two sniper bodyguards were still missing.

“Lose an argument, R?” he asked sarcastically as he checked around a corner before signaling to Elena that it was safe to move again.

R grumbled under his breath before he said, “ _Yes, I suppose you could say that._ ”  The second-in-command of Q-Branch had been handling all inter-team communications because despite his so-called professionalism, Q had not spoken to Bond since their argument twenty hours and fifteen minutes ago.  Bond didn’t care, he’d survived well enough without Q, and besides, Elena seemed plenty grateful so far for him getting her out of her loveless marriage with Joaquin Ramirez.  Aside from the fact that Bond hadn’t felt this restless and snappish during a mission in months, he was completing the mission in record time, his anger from Q’s accusations fueling his actions and allowing him to cut down his opponents as though they were nothing but the paper targets in the firing range at MI6.

Bond detected faint undertones of stress in the other man’s voice, but chose not to comment on it.  “Have you found the snipers yet?” he demanded as the two of them approached the lobby.

“ _No, all visuals have been down for a while now, about an hour before the safe exploded,”_  R replied, the faint tapping of fingers against computer keys.  “ _I lost contact with Boss, admittedly, I’d thought all communications were down until you contacted me.  So I think it’s just Nicholson and Boss that are having the comm trouble_.”

“I’m sure they’ll manage just fine,” Bond replied, remembering Q’s words from before, in their last conversation.  “Q can handle explosions, gunfights, he’s not delicate,” he added sardonically as he reached for Elena and pulled her out of sight of the intersection right as two panicking hotel staff ran by; it wouldn’t do for someone to recognize her  _now_.

A momentary silence, and then R finally said, “ _Of course, double-oh seven.  Forgive us for being concerned for our boss’s welfare.”_

“Just don’t lose sight of your primary priorities,” Bond said, releasing Elena once the intersecting halls were clear again.

“ _Of course, double-oh seven.  Just like you don’t lose sight of yours.”_

“Count yourself fortunate that Q is protective of you, or your future would look rather limited from that comment alone,” Bond said acidly, hand flexing slightly on Elena’s wrist as the two ran for the lobby.  When he got back to London, he decided, he’d cut off whatever was left between him and Q.  It was going to hurt like hell, because the younger, brilliant, energetic man would no longer smile at him when he thought Bond wasn’t looking, would no longer patch him back up after harrowing missions and dodging Medical, and would no longer provide the quiet and steady support that Bond hadn’t realized that he’d come to rely heavily on until it was gone.  Q’s accusations, however, had given Bond the reality check in how Q really perceived their relationship. Bond did not have the time, given his job, to quibble over something that would make him unhappy, so he would leave.  Plain and simple.

_Focus.  The mission takes precedence over everything else._

“Are you still blind?” Bond asked as they approached the lobby, noting that the gardens and pond in the center still looked intact despite the destroyed floors around it.

_“Yes…I can only hear your comms.  Please be careful, the boss-”_

“In case you haven’t noticed, Q doesn’t give a damn so long as his bloody precious equipment comes back intact,” Bond snapped, and R squeaked in terror.  Crouching to stay out of sight of the snipers, Bond scanned what he could of the second level walkway that wrapped around the main lobby before he whispered harshly, “Just get the fucking visuals back online and tell me where the goddamn snipers are.”

 _“Yes, sir._ ”

Then it happened.

One moment, Bond was sitting absolutely still, waiting for one of the snipers to make the first move, when there was a puff of dust on the other side of the lobby, on the second-level railings.  Rapid puffs of dust seemed to follow a trail along the walkway, and it took Bond a moment to realize that there was a gunman on the walkway directly above him, using a silencer. 

Then the target, one of the snipers, abruptly stood up with a pistol and  _fired_ , Elena’s shrieks intermingling with the gunshot echoing in the lobby as there was the creak of wood above and a heavy form fell from above, landing with a sickening  _thud_  on the ground.  As the sniper moved to make the final shot, Bond moved to stand over the fallen gunman and fired with the Walther at the sniper’s head.  Elena let out a scream at the spray of blood that appeared seconds before the sniper fell backwards and out of sight.  Bond looked down to the gunman he was standing over, belatedly realizing that the form below him was wearing full body armor.  Curious as to the identity of his helper, he knelt even as Elena shouted, “ _No! It’s a trap!”_

“No, it’s clear now,” Bond countered; he recognized Ramirez’s insignia on the ill-fitting armor. 

_Bang!_

“Or not,” Bond conceded, ducking around the corner, searching desperately for the second sniper.  He waited until his injured ally was moving again before grabbing the man’s ankle and dragging him back behind the column, dust showering down as the second sniper fired at him.  The ally had the sense to help him by moving into a sitting position so that Bond could grab his shoulder and pull him into safety.  Elena took a few steps back as he propped the gunman up, the man struggling to get his helmet off as Bond took the small sidearm in the side holster…only to fall still when he saw the familiar row of red lights above the handgrip. 

“What the hell…”

“ _Mine_ ,” Q’s distinctive voice snapped as he plucked the gun from Bond’s fingers, his helmet now off as he used Bond’s shoulder to pull himself up and use as a means of propping himself up.  Bond blinked when he realized that it was Q wearing the ill-fitting armor, but did not miss the way that Q struggled to even just get his hands around the sidearm's handgrip.  Bond calmly wrapped his own hand around Q’s smaller one. 

“Point and say when,” he said, already searching for the attacker.

“Up on second level, to the left and wearing a pink handkerchief,” Q said, sounding rather smug.  “He doesn’t know I got it on him when I was waiting for them to unlock the safe.”

Bond glanced at Q, and felt his stomach churn at the sight of the blood on the side of Q’s face. “When-”

“Shoot now,” Q said, seemingly ignoring the unformed question.

Bond did.

There was a screech of surprise, echoed by Elena herself as she flinched at the sound of the gunshot.  Bond watched with a sense of satisfaction as the sniper finally fell to the ground, satisfaction that turned into unwanted concern as Q slid effortlessly off his back and onto the ground, lying on his back as he stared up almost listlessly at the ceiling.  “Where are your glasses?” Bond bluntly asked, turning to check over what he could see of Q.

“Dunno, the guards took them away when they caught me in Ramirez’s safe,” Q said, flinching as Bond’s fingers probed his side.  “Please don’t do that, it hurts.”

“No fucking kidding, I need to see the injury,” Bond said, vaguely aware that R was already screaming for a medic on his end, having realized who Bond was talking to.  “What happened?” he asked despite himself, voice unnaturally calm and steady.

Q was worryingly quiet for a moment.  “I’d greatly appreciate it if we could avoid any kind of surgery at any point,” he said after a moment, hands awkwardly resting on his stomach before Bond moved them aside to get the armor off. 

Bond shook his head.  “Not with the level of damage here, not likely,” he said, forcing himself to remember Q’s accusations to help him stay emotionally distant from the situation in front of him.  It wasn’t working. “You need to stay alive, we need to sort a few things out,” he said, trying to provoke something out of Q other than the listlessness as he finally managed to pull the chest plate off.   _Don’t you dare fucking die on me._

Q shook his head. “That’s for deathbed confessions and until I’m certain I’m at that point, we can wait to talk,” he replied stubbornly, looking anywhere except at Bond.   _Of course I’m not going to die._   He hesitated, noticing Elena, and then said, “I’d really,  _really_  appreciate if we could avoid surgery though.”

“No promises.” Bond felt someone pulling him back and nearly lashed out until he realized it was Nicholson with a field medic, an American from the looks of the uniform.  Numbly, he sat back on his heels, the unspoken  _I told you so_  hanging there between the two of them as the medic moved in as Q’s eyes fluttered shut.  He stood up after a moment and calmly walked to Elena, pulling her shaking form against his own in a last bid to keep the shaky wall between him and Q... just in case Q died.  It would not hurt  _quite_  as much.

Separation would definitely be good for the two of them; Q would be less inclined to do something incredibly _stupid_  like whatever he did to wind up in the enemy’s colors and bleeding out.  Q was not in a strong position to fight at the moment, and it was a cheap shot to wait for him to be in such a position, but at this point, Bond took what he got.

The only thing he couldn’t figure out, though, was  _why_  Q did what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last angsty one.


	23. Recover

It was late at night.

Q, confined to bed until Medical felt confident that he wasn’t going to suffer back problems from the unplanned fall during the Zurich mission, lay propped up in bed in the darkness, the blue glow of the tablet screen illuminating his face and the little cove of blankets created from drawn-up knees.  He couldn’t see the latest test results on the screen though; the image of James tenderly holding Elena burned in his memory and projected itself whenever he tried his hardest to focus on the task at hand.  The image kept him up at night too, but he’d blamed the painkillers when talking to O’Reilly about having the tablet in here so that he could keep up with work.  It had been two weeks since he’d woken up in Medical from that mission, but he had neither heard nor seen James since then.

_Don’t interfere now, he’s moved on.  So should you._

The gunshot wounds in his thigh and the side of his abdomen were healing well, as was his back from when he fell off his perch while trying to draw the snipers out for James to shoot.  The superficial injuries on his face and neck from the safe’s explosion were almost completely gone; O’Reilly had warned him that there would be slight scarring, which Q had brushed off as a minor concern.  His hands were still functioning, which

“You should be asleep.”

His heart leapt in his throat when he heard James’s voice coming from somewhere in the darkened room, but he did not otherwise react. Instead, he continued typing the last of the email before closing the window, blinking only when James turned on the bedside lamp on and settled in the chair next to the bed, neither man saying anything as Q pulled up another email from R.  “I know, but this is the second time I will not be present for the routine tests,” he said, careful not to look at James as he typed out his response to R’s slew of questions. Tilting the tablet to let James see, he added, “Once I get a hold of the decoder, we’ll use it to create our own codes to program the new guns so that they will self-detonate when the handprint doesn’t line up with the individual holding them.”

“Q, we don’t _have_ the decoder,” James replied coolly as Q repositioned the tablet.

“Oh, we do. I underwent surgery early on to get it out of my digestion tract.  I just told R to not touch it until I examined it,” Q said, well aware that he was babbling a bit now even though he kept his voice level. 

Silence, and then, “You _swallowed it?_ ”

“Well, I couldn’t find a better hiding spot at the time,” Q said, scowling briefly at James before going back to the tablet.  _Now or never_.  “Was there something you wanted, double-oh seven, or is there just nothing else going on tonight?”

“Both.  Elena returned to Madrid this morning, and I didn’t have anything else to do this evening,” James replied, the chair creaking as he leaned back.

 _Aha_.  “Hm.  I’m surprised you didn’t try to follow her,” Q replied mildly as he scrolled to the next email, careful to hide any emotional inflections in his voice.

“I almost did. She certainly wanted me to.  I told her that there were a few things I had to sort out before I made a final decision in regards to joining her,” James said, sounding unnaturally calm.

Q raised an eyebrow, turning to properly face James.  The 00 agent was impeccably dressed as ever with his customary blank expression, so there were no clues as to his plans.  “Are you trying to tell me in a roundabout way that either a notice of leave of absence or resignation is sitting on M’s or my desk?” he asked, fingers stilling on the tablet for a moment.

James shrugged. “Haven’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted, glancing reflexively at the door to the room.  Turning back to Q, he asked point blank, “What does ‘forever’ mean to you, when you said that you wanted it?”

 _Fuck_.  Q quietly shut off the tablet and lay it facedown on his stomach.  “James, I genuinely did not intend for it to become a bigger deal than it actually was,” he said, turning to face the agent.  He had nothing to lose at this point.  “I just did not… _appreciate_ that I was being used as nothing but a means to past the time between missions,” he said, steeling himself to maintain eye contact with James.  “All I did was notice the similarities between myself and your usual modus operandi with the lovely ladies on the missions.” Shaking his head and looking away, he said, “I know I should not have asked as much from you.  I was just caught up in the moment at the time and it just slipped out.” Drawing his knees closer and resting his chin on them, he said quietly, “The thought of you leaving scares me, but I know that if you wanted to, I’d let you go.  We all have short lives, especially in the espionage business, and it’s not something to be wasted over something like an unhappy relationship.”  Huddling in on himself, he said, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier, I was scared, angry and humiliated.”

Silence.

Q silently pulled his glasses off, fully intending to escape the ensuing awkward silence by proclaiming that he was tired and needed to sleep. Give James a chance to escape.  He was turning away to place them on the opposite bedside table when James gently caught his chin and turned him around for an unexpected kiss.  Reflexively he reached out and grasped a handful of James’s jacket to hold him close, his breath hitching as he felt an euphoric rush at being able to be close to James again.  “James…”

“Shush, and just listen.  I’m not repeating myself,” James murmured as he nosed Q’s hair for a few moments before whispering in his ear, “The only reason I held you at arm’s length was because I thought that it would be easier for you to move on if I died on the field and there was nothing permanent holding us together.”  Gently bumping noses as he reached and clasped Q’s left hand again, gently running the fingers through his own, he whispered again, “I know I have some work to do in gaining back your trust after what I said to you, but if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’m ready to try again.”

Q was quiet for a moment before he said in a small voice, “You know it doesn’t work like that, right?  It’s going to hurt like hell if you die, no matter what kind of relationship we have at this point.”  Breathing in James’s comfortably familiar scent, he whispered, “Please don’t push me away to spare me, please just don’t.  It’s not fair.”

“Trust me, I know that now,” James murmured before pressing closer for another kiss.  “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.”

Q kept their foreheads pressed together; it was the best way he could see James without his glasses.  He could feel James carefully pressing his hands in between his own, and then he closed his eyes, swallowing nervously.  “What about Elena?” he asked finally.

He felt rather than saw James’s smirk.  “Well, I did say I had to make a final decision, now, didn’t I?” he whispered before tilting his head to kiss Q again, and Q felt himself start to drown in the warmth that was _James_.  “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere…”

Q merely clutched James tighter, ignoring the few tears that slid down his cheeks as he held on as though for dear life.  “Thank you James,” he finally whispered before reaching for another kiss.

He didn’t know how much time had passed until James finally leaned back, brushing hair out of Q’s eyes.  “You really should get some rest though, I don’t know what it is that you did during the Zurich mission, but since you’re on indefinite medical leave, it can’t have been good,” he said, gently pushing Q back to lie flat on the bed before taking the tablet away and setting it on the bedside table.

Q shrugged with a shoulder as he lowered his legs so that they were flat against the mattress as James began fussing with the blankets.  “I just got to the safe first, opened it without an issue, took the decoder out, and was locking the safe up when I heard the bodyguards approaching,” he said, turning on his side so he could still see James.  Raising his chin so that James could tuck the blanket underneath, he added, “I panicked, swallowed the decoder, and then acted as though I’d just climbed in through the window.  The bodyguards started to undo the combination and they were the ones who set it off.  That’s where I got mostly injured, the gunshots were lucky hits from later, when I was trying to escape.”

James shook his head as he took the tablet and powered it up again.  “I still can’t believe you swallowed it.  If I didn’t see the medical reports myself, I wouldn’t have believed it,” he said before leaning down and kissing Q lightly on the forehead.  “Now get some sleep.  I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he said, settling back in the plastic chair.

Despite not having his glasses, Q could still see the soft smile on the agent’s face before Q finally drifted to sleep.


	24. Skyfall

He never once imagined that he’d come back.

The once-proud estate now looked like the desolate ruin it had always been, the wind moaning mournfully through the cracks and broken windows. Ivy clung stubbornly to the old stone, covering up the burns and broken doors and walls.  If he really concentrated, James could see the deteriorating remains of the chopper that had crashed into it.  He remembered vaguely receiving the property deeds in the post a few months after the operation itself, with full apologies from the parties who had purchased it from him upon his death, but he had just shoved them all in the back of the drawer of his desk and never once looked at them again.  He’d only found them when he’d been searching for a piece of paperwork for Q, and then got the idea to slowly let Q into his life, and his past, bit by bit as to not overwhelm the quartermaster.

James looked at Q in silence, an excuse to not look at the ruins of Skyfall.  The quartermaster, bundled in a thick anorak and breath coming out in white puffs, silently surveyed the sight before him before gently squeezing James’s hand.  “May I?” he asked, nodding toward the property as he turned to glance at James.

James nodded after a moment.  “I’ll come with you,” he said finally.  Kincade would not be there, he knew; he’d carefully planned the visit around the groundskeeper’s monthly visit to Edinburgh since he knew the man would have questions that James did not have answers to at the moment.  He glanced around the gray moor as he released Q’s hand, stomach turning slightly at the sight of the lonely chapel on the hill a ways from the ruins of the manor.  Surprisingly, though, he felt none of the soul-crushing grief as he unwillingly recalled M’s death, just the bone-deep ache that he always seemed to carry.  Turning, he felt a twinge of alarm when he realized he couldn’t spot Q, but then he located the younger man standing on a pile of broken stone in one of the jagged holes in the walls. 

“How old were you?” Q finally asked, bracing himself against the opening as he turned to face James.

“Twelve.  Kincade watched me until Aunt Charmian arrived, after which I stayed here until she sent me to Eton.  I don’t remember much of the day itself, when the news arrived,” James said, glancing into the destroyed interior of the home as he absently reached out to push back errant strands of Q’s hair.  He made a face before looking back into what he suspected used to be the living room, and then said, “I never came back until I needed a place to hide M from Silva, it was deserted and was built to protect against invaders.”  Shaking his head, he stepped back and said, “You know how that ended.”

He didn’t miss the brief look of guilt that crossed Q’s face even as the quartermaster looked away.  Wincing, he stepped closer and ran a gentle hand down the opposite side of Q’s face, gently turning his head to face him.  Instead of kissing him though, he let Q bury his face in his shoulder and held him tight, the two of them standing still for what felt like hours but in reality was probably minutes.  Finally, they stepped apart, Q offering a watery smile in silent thanks before turning back to examine the nearby rusted remains of the chopper. 

“Have you ever considered rebuilding it?” he asked after a moment, running a hand along the rough stone.  “Start over?”

“Never saw a reason to, not even when it came back into my possession,” James said, watching Q instead of what the other man was doing.  “Didn’t see a point until now,” he added as Q jumped off his perch into the interior as though to get a better look at the skeletal structure from another angle.

Q turned back to glance at him, confused.  “What changed your mind?”

James merely hummed in response, gripping the nearest edge of stone as he climbed in after Q, running a hand across the man’s waist as he walked past.  Looking around at the rafters and beams above, he said, “This is going to take one hell of a repair job.”  Stepping past Q, James ducked underneath part of the chopper as he mentally recalled each room in the old building.  No, he wouldn’t reconstruct Skyfall to the way it used to be, he hated that Skyfall.  He’d stay out of the rebuilding process since he’d been the one to tear it down.  Glancing back at Q, who had followed him, he said, “Think you’re up to the task?”

Q stared at him, looking both stunned and cautiously hopeful at the same time.  “Seriously?  I mean, is there something specific you want me to do for the reconstruction process?” he asked, trying to appear professional even as his eye wandered over the nearby rafters.

“My only request is that you maintain the building’s exterior, but otherwise, the rest is up to you,” James said, approaching him again as his mind raced ahead with the possibilities; potential retirement aside, Skyfall could be a safe house for the two of them, remain out of MI6 records and give them both a place to turn to when all else was threatened.  Q would have a place to retreat to even when James was out of the country.  Resting his hands on Q’s upper arms, grinning when Q reached up to grasp his forearms, he leaned down with a smirk and whispered, “Think you can start the project in your pajamas before your first cup of Earl Grey?”

Q smirked before turning his head and whispering, “Skyfall is where we start, James.  Now, and then.”  His breath hitched as James pulled him close for another kiss, a low moan coming from him as James covered his mouth with his own.  When they pulled apart for air, he whispered, “Thank you, James.  Thank you so very much.”

James smiled, reaching up to cup Q’s face for another gentle kiss.  He could get used to this, waking up alongside Q every morning when he was home or in their secret refuge at Skyfall.  There were no secrets between them.

The words hovered there, but James swallowed them back as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead in the crook of Q’s neck, silently enjoying the hand carding through his short hair as he breathed in Q’s natural, _clean_ scent that calmed and brought him _home_.


	25. Music

He found it quite by accident.

James was late for their rendezvous in Edinburgh; the agent was meeting with a turncoat terrorist who was seeking political asylum in England in exchange for anything that MI6 desired of him.  Q, meanwhile, was to assist in arranging the informant’s escape.  Q, to kill time as he waited for James to call him with the meeting location, decided to wander around a city that he had never visited before and even go as far as to look inside buildings that permitted tourists. 

The piano was on the third floor of a bookstore, dusty and painfully out of tune when Q tested a few keys.  Glancing around to make sure that the floor was deserted, he sat down at the piano bench, wondering if he’d be able to recall the years of piano lessons that he’d neglected once he’d gone to university.  His mother had insisted, and he’d obliged her, but he hadn’t _hated_ the venture, just ran out of time once he came close to finishing school.

The first notes were hesitant, Q’s brow furrowing as he tried to ignore the out-of-tuned sounds as he began to play; it didn’t help that he didn’t have sheet music and was relying primarily on hazy memory.  Then, somehow, he recalled the faint strains of a tune he didn’t think he’d ever heard before and found himself attempting to replicate it.

He completely missed James’s arrival, only jumping when the agent slid into the seat next to him.  “Keep playing,” James said even as Q’s hands began to still.  A hand snaked around Q’s waist, keeping a loose grip as Q began to pick up the tune again.  James rested his head against Q’s own as Q picked up the melody where he left off.  “When did you first learn to play?” he asked, voice warm against Q’s skin.

“When I was six.  Mum wanted me to learn early so that I’d have something to do during the ‘wild teenage years’.  She needn’t have worried, I spent my free time plotting world domination,” Q said, grinning as he turned to nuzzle James as his fingers continued to dance across the keys.  “I lost time though, to practice when I went to school, and, well, you know how it is with MI6,” he said, making eye contact with James and silently marveling at the _blue_ of the other man’s eyes. 

“World domination as a teen?  You started early,” James said, playfully nipping Q’s earlobe.

“Yes, well, without that plotting, you wouldn’t have half of the gadgets you enjoy today,” Q said, nudging James playfully with a shoulder.  He turned his head to kiss James, and the music stuttered for a moment as James held him in place.  Then the music picked up again, Q closing his eyes as he tried to remember the name of this piece.

“What’s this one called?” James asked after a moment.

Q shrugged.  “I don’t entirely know, I must have heard it somewhere and it meant something to me since I can remember the notes, I can see them on the sheet,” he said, memories of a darker-lit room of a dingy hotel somewhere swam into his mind.  He felt a familiar pang of pride at the completed score followed by a hollow sense of cold fury and disappointment. 

“Q?”

He blinked, and saw James even as he tasted the bitter ash of regret on his tongue, a memory from another lifetime ago.  “Sorry, zoned out a bit,” he said, placing his hands on his lap in an effort to keep himself from continuing to play.  Clearing his throat, he said, “The informant…”

“Is waiting at the hotel,” James finished, frowning as he studied Q.  “Do you have a means of escape?”

“Yes.  Right now, the informant is registered to fly out of Edinburgh Airport for Heathrow tonight.  He’ll check out of the hotel tonight, and then you’ll pick him up as an airport chauffeur.  Then you’ll drive him to where I’ll be waiting, switch cars, and then the three of us will drive back to London,” he said, pulling out a disposable mobile and pressing it into James’s hand.  “You will receive further instructions when you arrive to the airport’s car park.”

“All right.” James pocketed the phone, and started to stand up when he paused, staring intently at Q.  Leaning down, he brushed some of Q’s hair out of his face and said, “Everything will be fine, this mission is tame compared to what we’ve done in the past.”

“I know, I know.” Q stood up to kiss him and then he stepped out from behind the piano bench.  He hesitated, and then grasped James’s coat lapels for one more kiss before letting the agent go. 

Q waited for a few moments, staring at the piano for a moment, his fingers silently and unconsciously tapping the melody against his leg.  Then he shook his head and headed for the staircase, mindful that he had to make sure there was enough petrol for the trip home.


	26. Defense

“ _Ouch_ , that is going to hurt in the morning…”

James ignored the sideline commentary from Eve as he moved to offer a hand to help pull Q back up to his feet.  At Q’s request, he’d been teaching the Quartermaster to defend himself, something that M had apparently been considering anyway if the two of them were going to go ‘public’ with their relationship within MI6.  Not that Q would be threatened _inside_ MI6, but there was always the risk of information leaking out, and James wanted that peace of mind before he left on another mission.  Word had gone around, and Eve, Alec, Tess, Will, and Thomas had invited themselves to watch the session.

“Let’s try that again,” he said, resisting the urge to check Q over for bruises; they had to remain professional while both or one were still on duty.  That had been one of M’s stipulations, there was still work that they needed to do whether they were together or not.  “This time, surprise me.  Feint if you have to,” he said, checking Q’s stance over before stepping back. 

“Is this still the situation in which I am cornered?” Q asked, raising an eyebrow as he failed to hide the slight disdain in his voice.

“We’ll be doing the scenario in which someone is pursuing you later tonight, I don’t want an audience for that,” James said, allowing the mask to slip for a moment while ignoring Alec’s snickers from the sideline.  Satisfied at the small smile on Q’s face, he swallowed and said, “That means first punch, Q.  And try to remember that there’s no other way than past me for your escape.  Use everything in your arsenal in a coordinated escape, and then run.”  He pulled the sidearm, lifted it for Q to see, and then said, “This is unloaded, are you willing to continue with this aspect of the exercise?”

Q nodded; this may have been the fifth time they were about to run the exercise, but James needed to make sure Q knew everything before they started.  Placing the sidearm into the holster that 004 had snatched on her last mission from the enemy, James walked away from Q a bit, planning to charge the quartermaster as he’d done the last few times.  So far, Q had done the few techniques that James had taught him, but needed a little more force behind his punches. He had used his lithe form once against James, throwing the agent off guard for the briefest of moments but Q had missed the slip and ended up flat on his back again.  Even now, as James turned to face the quartermaster, he could see that Q was already trying to analyze his weak spots and James guessed that he was trying to figure out the best way to get the gun out of James’s possession… as he’d done for the last three out of four times.

James made eye contact with Q and said, “Ready?”

The other nodded mutely.

James tensed, drawing the wait as he counted down from ten in his head.  Q, he noticed, tended to get a little jittery when the tension started to get to him (a habit carried over from watching too many suspense movies in his downtime), and James knew that the opponent would see it as a sign of weakness.  He made a mental note to do something about it before charging, Q jumping a little when he moved.

For a few seconds, it looked like Q would stand his ground and try to disarm him again.

It wasn’t until James was almost to him that Q unexpectedly charged toward him, causing him to slow down out of surprise.  Before he could react, understand what the hell Q was doing, the quartermaster jumped onto him, sending htem both backwards to the ground.  James was about to shove Q off and tackle him when Q bent over and kissed him _hard_ , sending unexpected bolts of pleasure down James’s spine and scattering his thoughts to the wind.

Then he instinctively froze when he felt the cold barrel pressed against his temple.

Q broke apart, remaining on top of him but still looking quite satisfied as he looked down at James.  “I disarmed you,” he replied smugly, lowering the sidearm to better prop himself up around James, his warmth delicious and comforting against James’s body.

“Fucking hell, Q.  If you do that during a real mission I might just have to kill the attacker myself out of jealousy,” he said, grinning as he ran a hand through Q’s hairs.  Then, when Q closed his eyes at the sensation, James smirked and promptly flipped them over, palming the gun out of Q’s hand as he did.

Q shrugged nonchalantly, shifting his hips discreetly and James stifled a groan.  “Either way, my problem would be solved, now wouldn’t it?” he asked, pouting softly. 

Resisting the urge to take those kiss-bitten lips again, James rested his forehead and whispered, “I don’t do well with competitors, intentional or not.”

“Mm, do you get jealous easily, James? Or is that a dumb question?” Q asked, smirking as he trailed a hand up James’s arm.  He looked to the side abruptly, swallowed guiltily, and then said, “Perhaps you can answer me later, you know, when we have less of an audience.”

James didn’t hold back the growl, but looked anyway to find that both Will and Thomas had disappeared, Tess was sitting there with her mouth hanging open in shock, and Alec was shaking in silent laughter against Eve’s shoulder.  Turning back, he leaned impulsively forward and bit the skin at the juncture of Q’s neck and shoulder.  “Not here, not here, but definitely later,” he murmured against the sweaty skin.

“I think you’ve mentally scarred Will and Thomas for life now, I don’t think they were expecting the session to get this heavy,” Q muttered crossly, but the smile tugging on his features betrayed his lack of real anger.  Leaning forward, he kissed James on the nose and then said, “Up.  We have to either finish or I have to shower to get back to the branch for the tests.”

“Oh, we’ll finish all right. Later tonight,” James quipped before rolling off Q.  He frowned, analyzing the fight that had led up to Q’s victory, and then asked, “You were faking the jumpiness, weren’t you?”

“James, this was the fifth time we were about to do this exercise.  Of course I was faking it, I knew what was going to happen,” Q said airily as he brushed himself off.  Helping James up, he said, “For what it’s worth, I’ll be ready to practice again this evening, now that I’ll be studying your fighting style until then.”

“What, you don’t get enough just watching me on missions?” James teased as they headed to the showers.

“Are you kidding?  If I’m not monitoring for threats, I’m staring at you, not your fighting style,” Q teased before kissing James, moving quickly away when James tried to capture him.  “Do try to keep up, double-oh seven,” he teased, winking before disappearing into the locker rooms.

James gave him thirty seconds before pursuing.  There really was no way he could to let Q go now.  Or ever.

He found that the prospect didn’t frighten him as much as it used to.


	27. Notes

“Sir, double-oh seven is missing.”

Q looked up sharply at R’s words.  “What do you mean by ‘missing’?” he demanded as he reached over and brought up the map of London on his computer, frowning when the assigned trackers failed to appear.  Frowning and silently praying that James wasn’t in trouble, he reached for his mobile, aware that there was always a chance that the trackers had mechanical failures; his work, while forever excellent, was still susceptible to breaking or malfunctioning.

James’s track record with assigned equipment was living proof of that.

Q swiped open the mobile screen, but then paused when he saw that he had a text from James’s personal phone, sent less than twenty minutes ago.  Frowning, he opened it, and then stared at the message in confusion:

_What do you see?_

Q stared at the message in confusion, trying to understand James’s intentions.  He understood that it was the first question that he ever asked James, but didn’t understand what the other man was getting at. For a moment, he stared at the message, wondering if James was being monitored and needed assistance, and that this was his way of communicating his distress.  “R, take over for a moment, I’ll go see what double-oh seven wants,” he said, pocketing his phone before opening a drawer and reaching for the small sidearm he kept hidden in there.  Tucking it into the small holster on his side, hidden underneath his parka, Q left his office saying, “Call me if something happens!”

R nodded, but didn’t look up. “Yes, sir,” he replied.

The cold air nipped at his exposed skin as he headed outside and hailed a taxi.  He tried calling James, but gritted his teeth in frustration when the call instead went to voicemail after several seconds of ringing.  “James, this had better not be a game… National Gallery, please,” he said as he climbed into the taxi.

The driver nodded, and the car left.

He spent the car ride both texting and calling James… on both of the agent’s phones.  When both failed, he tried to squash the growing panic, aware that R would be keeping an eye on him until the potential threat disappeared.

The National Gallery was most empty, Q’s footsteps echoing around as he walked briskly through the halls.  He smiled softly to himself as he headed up the stairs, remembering the sense of trepidation he’d had when approaching 007 for the first time.  He’d wanted an inconspicuous location so that 007 could not cause a scene without drawing attention.

The room had only a handful of tourists examining the paintings.  Q slowed when he found the bench that he and James had sat down at for their first discussion, and paused when he realized that there was no one there.  Brow furrowing, he took a step back and nearly reached for his phone to call R when he spotted the gallery pamphlet highlighting _The Fighting Temeraire_ lying on the bench with a piece of yellow paper sticking out of it.  Glancing warily at the couple standing in front of the painting, Q walked over and picked it up.  Pulling the paper slip out, he read,

_Alex-_

_I’ll admit I failed on the whole first-date thing._

Q sighed, recalling that moment when James had (unsuccessfully) bluffed his way into a first date.  He still remembered small look of embarrassment and guilt and James’s admission at having triggered Q’s flat alarms to make it look as though there had been a break-in.  Checking his phone and seeing that R hadn’t called with any new developments, he sighed and then tucked the paper slip into his pocket before turning around and heading back toward the entrance, wondering what James was playing at now.  He checked his flat security system, just in case, but then remembered a second later that James now had full, permitted access into the flat.

 _Damn_.

It took him a few minutes to get to the café that James had taken him to that one time, the first time James had brought him out to lunch under the pretense of protecting him from a threat.  Sighing, and wondering if James was really in trouble or playing a game now, Q pushed the glass doors open and smiled at the host, praying that the other man would be able to help him and he wouldn’t have to waste time eating in an effort to suck up to the management for their cooperation.

“Good afternoon, sir, how many today?” the host asked, reaching for the menus underneath.”

Q smiled apologetically before he said, “I’m sorry, I’m actually looking for someone.  He has short blond hair and a bigger build than me, and he may or may not be here, waiting for me.”

The host smiled knowingly, and Q squirmed slightly as the host reached underneath the podium.  “And your name, sir?” he asked, pausing long enough to look up at Q.

Q sighed. “Alexander Winfield,” he said patiently, deciding that James was definitely in a playful mood.  Deciding to humor the agent a little longer, he leaned back on his foot as the host pulled out a small envelope along with a paper bag from underneath the podium.

“Peace offering, he said there was a chance you’d be a little tetchy by now at having to run all over London,” the host explained as Q accepted the paper bag.

“Well, I haven’t been ‘all over London’ quite yet, although now I’m worried,” Q said, tucking the bag underneath his arm before pulling the next note out to read it.

_You’re not the only one glad that you took the chance._

Home.  Namely, Q’s flat, most likely his bedroom.  Q sighed, and then smiled briefly at the host.  “Thank you,” he said before turning around again and leaving the restaurant, making a mental note to erase any footage of this once he was done… and to find the footage of James leaving the trail.  He pulled his phone out as he hailed a cab, texting R to not wait up for him since James was not threatened and Q would have to work on fixing the trackers himself.

The cab ride was quiet, as Q tried one more time to call James but once again received his voicemail.  The sidearm weighed against Q’s side, but until he’d assessed the situation, he wasn’t going to part with it.  He only relaxed infinitesimally when he saw that no one had triggered the flat alarms, and told himself that he was only taking precautions in the event of an ambush.  He settled for munching on the pastries on the drive over, noting with a twinge of happiness that they were the same pastries he’d favored the last time he and James went.

His flat was quiet when he entered, Missy running in from the bedroom to greet him.  “Hello, girl, did you miss me?” he cooed, gently rubbing her paws so that he could massage her claws out and get a look for any signs of blood that would have heralded a fight with an intruder.  He frowned when he saw that the very tips had pink specks, and could only conclude that she’d fought, but with very little resistance and through batting her opponent. Sighing, he scratched behind her ears and asked, “What did James do now?” before draping her over a shoulder. 

Entering the bedroom, he found the expected note sitting on the pillow.  His pillow, he realized, noticing for once that James’s things—phone, keys, and Walther—were sitting on top of the bedside table opposite from the pillow with the note.  Bracing a hand against Missy so she didn’t fall, he leaned down and picked up the note.

_Missy may have nine lives, but I only have one._

Frowning, Q turned to look at Missy, who blinked sleepily at him before pushing her forehead against his.  Then he spotted the yellow sticky note carefully wrapped around her red fabric collar.  “Sorry sweetie,” he said, carefully balancing her in one hand as he reached over to tug the sticky note free.  She leaned against his shoulder, purring as he carefully unwrapped the sticky note, his heart pounding as he suddenly realized that he didn’t know what to expect, hand trembling as he raised the note to eye-level.

_If you’re ready, I’d like to spend it with you. Forever._

Q looked up sharply to find James standing in the doorway, wearing a T-shirt and jeans for once.  For a moment, neither man said anything.

Finally James sighed, and then said, “You know what I have to do to get the missions done.  But, if there’s a choice, I want it to be you.  You’re more to me than you think, and frankly it terrifies me.  But, as you also pointed out, we have short lives in the espionage business, and I’m not ready to waste that short time on dancing around the subject or wondering if today is the last day of us.”

Q, not quite daring to hope that he meant what Q thought he meant, whispered, “Are you sure?”

James nodded.  “Only if you will have me,” he said calmly, reaching into his pocket.

Missy scrabbled to get out of Q’s arms as the quartermaster rushed forward to pull James into a hug, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt in an effort to get closer.  “Yes… _yes_ , damn it,” he whispered as James pulled him back for a kiss. He smiled before kissing James again when he felt James slip the band onto his finger, but then all thoughts were scattered as James pushed him back towards the bed, never once breaking contact.


	28. Bind

James knew that Q was nervous.

He could see it in the way that Q fidgeted as the two waited for the registrar, Q wearing the suit that he’d worn to Alana’s wedding and James wearing a new Armani he’d gotten specifically for the occasion, something elegant yet unmemorable for the registrar… just in case.  It was a pain on occasion to slip into disguise even for something special as a wedding, but James had insisted on taking every precaution possible for the ceremony.

“Sure about this?” Alec asked, voice low enough for only James to hear; Eve was conveniently distracting Q as she fussed with his collar and bowtie, much to his annoyance.  When James raised an eyebrow at Alec, the other man shrugged and said, “I try not to, but I still remember how things were after Vesper died.  M’s worried you’ll go on something of a rampage if Q dies, and we all know he’ll be sending _me_ after you, and with all due respect, I’d rather not have to go kill my best friend for any reason.”

“Absolutely.  Q is not going to die, so that should not be a concern,” James muttered back, watching the other man fondly.  He glanced at Alec, who immediately looked wary.  “Can you do me a favor?” he asked quietly, turning so that Q couldn’t read his lips.

Alec pressed his lips together into a thin line, as though he knew what James was going to ask him, but reluctantly nodded anyway. 

“If anything happens to me on the field, and I am _confirmed_ dead, keep an eye on him for me.  Without someone to hold him back, you know he can and _will_ bring the world to ruins in revenge, and I don’t want him to lose his life senselessly because he angered a few people,” James said firmly, pressing on even when Alec groaned and shook his head in dismay.

“How is it that I’m friends with the two most volatile people in MI6?” he asked, glancing briefly over James’s shoulder.  He sighed, and then nodded, rubbing his forehead.  “Do try not get killed though, to spare Q if anything,” he said, looking briefly at James before nodding to Q. 

James turned and gently tugged Q away from Eve, who giggled behind a hand.  Pulling Q close, he gently brushed the dark curls out of the other’s face, smiling when the other smiled back softly as James gently captured his fluttering hands into his own.  “Second thoughts, Alex?”

Q shook his head.  “Never.  Just… just never thought that this would happen, not when I joined MI6,” he said, ducking his head in embarrassment.  “And with you, of all people,” he mumbled, but James caught it anyway.

“Hey, don’t get shy now,” James chided gently, only half-aware of the registrar approaching the two of them.  “We’ll be together now, in sickness and in health.  We have all the time in the world,” he whispered as he used a finger to lift Q’s chin, leaning in for a kiss and wrapping his hands around the back of Q’s neck and waist.  He rubbed Q’s back gently even as the younger man clung tighter to him, fingers curling into his jacket.

Gently pulling away, he kept his eyes on Q and, without saying anything, slid the ring, a titanium band covered in a layer of gold, onto the other man’s finger, gently caressing Q’s face before letting Q capture his own hand, watching him kiss the palm gently before sliding the ring onto James’s finger.  Then, still holding hands, they turned to face the registrar, and James wrapped a hand around Q’s waist as he let the younger man sign first, ducking to nose along Q’s hair before taking the pen from Q and signing after him, dating the line once he was done.  The two had agreed to keep their surnames, to lessen the chances of an enemy using one to find the other, but James hoped, that _when_ he reached retirement, they could perhaps change that, provided that Q agreed.

Eve stepped forward next, to sign as a witness before handing the pen to Alec.  James exchanged a quick nod with his friend and brother as Alec leaned forward to sign as a witness as well.

Missing the registrar’s words, James merely nodded in acknowledgement as he kissed Q, breathing in the comforting and familiar scent as he held the quartermaster close, fingers tangling in the thick dark hair. “I am never, _ever_ , letting you go,” he whispered softly, brushing away the silent tears of happiness from Q’s cheeks.

It was a moment he wished he could capture forever; peace, happiness, and _love_ all wrapped into one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any inaccuracies!


	29. Status Quo

Life carried on.

They could not have a honeymoon, not with MI6 being on constant alert.  James, before he left for Bosnia, promised that he would make it up to Q, to which Q replied by asking that James simply return home alive.

The ring felt heavy on his finger, but Q could not stop the quiet smile each time it caught the corner of his eye.  He’d handed off the comms to R for this run, focusing on the updates to the MI6 security networks as he half-listened to R bickering with both 007 and 004, who were coordinating for the Bosnia run.  The staff knew, and Q knew that they knew, since a bouquet of flowers had mysteriously appeared on his desk the day after he’d married James along with a card signed by each member of the Q-Branch staff.

“Sir?”

He looked up to find Nicholson standing there.  “M wants to see you, he didn’t say about what,” she said, looking nervous.

“Thank you.  Please watch this program and make sure it runs smoothly,” Q said, standing up and gesturing to the laptop on the temporary worktable in his office.  “It’s the update for the security networks, alert me immediately to any irregularities that come up,” he said, nodding to the computer before turning and calmly leaving his office.

He knew exactly what it was that M wanted to talk about.  But he was ready to defend himself and James to the very end, there was nothing M could do to them.  Even if the law didn’t stop the director, Q knew that he and James, together, held a special sort of power over the MI6 director because even M would think twice before challenging either; a highly trained assassin and an expert programmer/hacker.  Q knew he couldn’t speak for James in this situation, but if M personally threatened James, then Q would be willing to stand in between the two and defy M to keep James safe.  Hopefully, it wouldn’t go as far as to cost Q his job, but as long as James remained safe from the threat at home, Q would remain at ease.

He smiled as he entered Eve’s office, nodding in acknowledgement as she gestured for him to wait a moment, indicating the receiver in her hand.  He was just settling down when he heard the door open, and he looked up to find M standing there.  “Sir,” he greeted casually, folding his hands in his lap to appear as nonthreatening as possible.

“Quartermaster.  In my office, it won’t be long,” M said, nodding with his head into the office.  Out of the corner of his eye, Q saw Eve frown, but he chose to ignore it as he calmly walked into the office.  He sat down as M closed the door behind him, and then said, “I believe congratulations are in order?”

“Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir,” Q said, careful to not let his voice betray any of his nerves, watching as M walked around him and calmly sat behind his desk.

“And may I ask as to when the special date was?”  M inquired, pulling out a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“Yesterday, sir.  We received the news of the Bosnia mission this morning, and came into work as we always do,” Q replied calmly, heart twisting at the too-fresh memory of James kissing him desperately as Q finished preparing the equipment for the mission, before 004 arrived to collect her weapons and gadgets.  “I’d written down on my schedule that R was due to try running missions on his own, and thought that this one would be an excellent starter.”

“And your marriage to double-oh seven had nothing to do with that decision?” M asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, sir.” Q was proud of his ability to keep his voice even.  “It was a pre-arranged decision and R was very well aware of the fact that I was going to start having him run missions, under my supervision of course.  In the case of today, I was updating the security networks but I can go back to supervising the mission if that is what you would like me to do,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

M was quiet for a moment.  “If you had to choose between double-oh seven and the mission, which would you choose?” he asked after a moment.

Q silently cursed the hesitation in his voice; he’d known that the question was coming, but it didn’t make him any more ready for it.  “James and I talked about that this morning,” he said finally, still remembering the solemnity on James’s face as the agent ensured that Q was well aware of his wishes.  Making eye contact with M, Q said, “Rest assured, sir, should it come down to it, the mission always comes first.”

“Even if Bond were to die as a result of your call?” M pressed.

Q’s lips thinned, but he kept his anger at bay.  “I don’t see a way to convince you that we’re both well aware that the mission comes first,” he said in a surprisingly steady voice.  “I think it should be enough to know that I am willing to sacrifice someone that I love to save countless millions who are rarely grateful anyway since they will never know.”  _And that my husband, someone I just married, is willing to die for the same goddamn reason._

“You’ll have to forgive me, Q, for asking these questions,” M said, passing over one of the two glasses of scotch.  “If anything, I’m hoping that this marriage of yours will encourage double-oh seven to come home in a more timely manner instead of causing needless destruction before ambling his way back to London.  Maybe even stop and cooperate with Medical?” he said tiredly, raising his glass in a silent toast.

Q raised his in response.  “I doubt that the destruction part will cease, but he’ll definitely be better about returning home.  As for Medical, well that’s completely up to him,” he said before sipping at the scotch.

M nodded, still looking calculatingly at Q.

Q merely smiled innocently in response, but the two seemed to settle on a silent and temporary agreement to leave each other alone for now.  James had yet to factor into the power shift in the MI6 hierarchy, and while Q was ready to remain professional while at work, he drew the line at protecting James from any MI6 inquiries that were not connected to any missions.  He did not want to turn his back only to find his husband under arrest seconds later for an imagined offense when the real aim was to keep the two men separate.

It was going to take a while for Q and M to get used to the new status quo, especially since Q essentially had MI6’s best 00 agent at his side.


	30. Illusion

Everything hurt.

James gritted his teeth as he finally arrived to his and Q’s flat, the key nearly slipping in his hand as he lost a few minutes trying to get it into the lock. Leaning against the door for support, he finally managed to get the door open and slip inside the darkened flat.  Then he closed the door quickly, aware that Q got tetchy whenever the cat escaped from the flat because of a careless person.

 _Mraow_.

Smiling, he looked down as Missy padded over to where he was standing, jumping onto the nearest armchair before climbing to the back of it so she could brush her body against his arm, purring as he reached up to scratch behind her ears.  “Hey there, sweetie, did you watch Q for me?” he asked, smiling slightly as she moved her head underneath his fingers in order to get his fingers where she wanted them to be.

“Welcome home.”

He looked up, and then grinned despite himself.  Q looked like hell, through and through, with reddened eyes and worn clothes that hung off his frame, wrinkled from Q having slept in them.  James moved to him, carefully setting down his heavy jacket and reaching forward for the quartermaster, who wrapped his arms carefully around James’s neck before pulling him in for a deep kiss.  “How badly are you hurt?” he whispered, stepping back as though to check James over for injuries.

“I’ll live,” James assured him, letting the other man unbutton his shirt to get a better look at the knife wounds on his torso.  Judging from Q’s furrowed brows, James suspected that he was about to get another lecture on skipping Medical.  In an effort to stave off the inevitable, James leaned down slightly to run a hand through Q’s messy hair before pressing him close as he said, “But I came home alive.  I’m back.”

Q nodded mutely, but he still stepped back and began to carefully pull James’s shirt off the rest of the way, carefully working around the injuries.  “Sit down, at least,” he said, the relief obvious in his voice.  James caught him for another kiss, hand moving underneath Q’s untucked shirt as Q guided him to the armchair.  “Shh, not until I’ve had a chance to look at you,” he said, giving James a watery smile before guiding James down into the chair.  James closed his eyes, trying not to flinch as Q pulled the shirt off the rest of the way.  “I see why you skipped Medical… it’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, but James could still hear the uncertainty in his voice. 

James gently ran a hand down Q’s spine before letting the other man go so he could get their first aid kit.  “I’ll report in tomorrow,” he said when Q returned, shifting so that Q could straddle his lap. 

“And my equipment?” Q quipped, still grinning softly as he pulled the antiseptic out with bandages, part of his arm always touching James’s bare skin as he worked.

“Worked beautifully, but unfortunately, we had to part,” James said, smirking at Q’s feigned pained expression.  “I had my husband waiting for me at home.”

Q snorted at the line, and James smirked; it hadn’t been one of his best, but it had succeeded in making Q laugh.

Instead of verbally responding, he turned and captured Q in a kiss, wrapping his hands delicately around the back of Q’s neck and head, guiding Q to lie against him as the two sought as much physical contact as possible.

This moment was theirs.  No one could take it from them.  Not even if James or Q or both were to die the next day, this _moment_ , the love, was theirs and not even time itself could take that away form them.

Separation, after all, is nothing but an illusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Huge_ thank you to everyone who has read/kudoed/favorited/alerted this story. It makes me smile when I hear about much you've enjoyed this story, and I greatly appreciate all the support I received for this story.
> 
> James Bond and all related media belong to Ian Fleming.


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